


Pulled From Orbit

by PorcupineGirl



Series: Fallen Angels [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Asexual Jack Zimmermann, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fallen Angels, Jack vs Gender, Minor Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Multi, but that's just so we can see them back in Heaven which is their actual home, nonbinary characters - Freeform, technically Jack and Bitty both die of old age offscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 69,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: The angels Jacquariel and Bittiel have been cast down to earth to live, fallen, as humans. They seek out an ex-angel named Larissa, who helps them to establish their human lives as Jack and Bitty.Jack doesn't want to be on earth. Jack doesn't want to be human. Jack doesn't want to have to deal with stupid human things like anger and gender and hunger. And Jack definitely does NOT want to be friends with Bitty.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, minor offscreen Bitty/others
Series: Fallen Angels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693960
Comments: 175
Kudos: 185
Collections: Coda, Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soliduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliduck/gifts).



> This fic is my 2019 Fandom Trumps Hate fic for [soliduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliduck), who has an amazing talent for winning my auctions that offer 5-10k then giving me prompts that lead to 50K+ stories. In this case, they sent me the instruction booklet to an RPG called Feathers, about fallen angels. I used the character types it outlines as general inspiration for Jack and Bitty's character arcs, but only in a pretty vague way.
> 
> This fic did not want to be written for quite a while. I wrote the first two or three chapters last summer, then spent most of the fall fighting with it, getting nowhere. I finally managed to write the last 40k in a fit of inspiration in December. Huge thanks to [RabbitRunnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitRunnah) for her beta help - she read the entire first draft and helped me figure out what scenes were and weren't working, what needed to be moved around, etc.
> 
> I spent a long time researching angel and other mythologies all over the world. What I've created for this is a mishmash of everything plus my own stuff. It's a very "every human religion is a little bit right and a lot wrong" approach. The angels speak Enochian when in Heaven, which doesn't always translate exactly to English (or any other human language). The names for types of angels, for example, come from many sources, and are only approximations taken from the mythology/religion that gets it closest. Enochian also has only one, ungendered, pronoun. It's translated here as _they,_ but again that's more a best approximation than a direct translation.
> 
> Similarly, Jack's (and Lardo's) experiences and feelings around gender are not meant to represent those of actual nonbinary people. They are the experiences of beings of a genderless species who are dealing with gender for the first time - unwillingly, in Jack's case.
> 
> Title is from the song [For Good,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CImGTTuEMEI) from Wicked.

Angels weren't designed to lose consciousness, and so Jacquariel doesn't understand what is happening as their surroundings fade away.

They had been working—the thing they were created to do, nearly the only thing they do—to perfect the Great Library that holds all of human history (all of every human's history), documented in Enochian on Heavenly scrolls. Humanity is the greatest creation, and angels were created to love and care for it, and so keeping this documentation is vital—not just vital, but sacred. It is a _privilege_ that Jacquariel was given this task. They could have been sent to build the dwellings where angels go to meditate, or the thrones the Council sits on to pronounce judgment, or the parks where angels who are inclined to do so (often Guardians who are in between assignments) go to socialize, or any number of Heavenly structures intended for the use of angels and other divine beings. But they were assigned to help expand and maintain this, one of the most important structures on the angelic side of Heaven; the only higher calling for any of the Bana'im is to build on the other side, where human souls actually reside.

They are privileged to work on the Library, and so Jacquariel has never shown anything but the utmost devotion to their task. Every shelf, every stair, every scroll of moulding across the ceiling, must be the best they have ever created, better than those that came before.

They know they have been slipping lately. The staircase leading to their most recent room is not as glorious as the staircase Aphariel created for the next room over. Aphariel's bannister glimmers and appears to change its engravings depending on the preferences of the angel looking at it; Jacquariel should have thought of that. They've never seen a bannister created that way, but they could have found a way to do it, they _will_ do it for their next room, or better, but thanks to their laziness this one is not quite as good as it could have been.

That's why they started taking the demonic essence to begin with. They had felt their inspiration fading; their creations had not been as glorious as they should be. They'd heard that ingesting demonic essence would help them focus. Help them be better. It isn't forbidden, but Jacquariel knows that other angels would look down on them for it, for being so weak as to need its help.

And it did help, for a while. They finished the shelving in that room, and while it wasn't exactly a work of genius or anything worth becoming vain over, it was as good as Aphariel's shelving. The relief that Jacquariel felt at that, at knowing they were good enough, that they could still do justice to this most sacred task, was enough to convince them that the demonic essence was worthwhile.

They didn't know that they would keep needing more and more of it to get the same effect.

And now, they don't know what is happening to them; they only know that Heaven is disappearing around them. Even when they meditate, they have never closed all of their eyes at once—but that is what happens.

When they regain consciousness, they are in a very plain room. Then a Seraph is in the room with them.

"You are… awake." The word sits as uncomfortably in the Seraph's mouth as the concept sits in Jacquariel's mind. It isn't a word applied to angels often, because usually there is no alternative. "I will notify the Council."

Jacquariel wants to ask what happened to them, how they got here, but the Seraph is gone before they can respond. The Council of Dominions. Of course. They're being brought before the Council because they haven't performed their job as well as they should; worse, they've used demonic essence to hide that fact and pretend they are a normal, capable angel when they should have faced the consequences of their imperfection long ago.

They wait.

Eventually, the Seraph is there again. "The Council will see you now." The Seraph wraps a wing around Jacquariel and suddenly they are in a different room. It leaves Jacquariel feeling a little disoriented; as the Bana'im have no wings, it's always strange when an angel of a winged Order transports them.

They look around and see that they are in a holding pen to one side of the Council's trial room. Jacuqariel is not the one on trial yet, though. Another angel—a Guardian, all fire and ice swirling around wings and a single ever-changing but vaguely human face—is standing before the Council of five Dominions.

"Bittiel," the Head of the Council says in a voice that is booming and gentle all at once, "you have faithfully fulfilled your duties as a Guardian for centuries. You are before us today because, for the first time, you have failed in your duty."

Bittiel frowns. "I did not _fail_ , Your Honor. I chose to show mercy."

"Did you?" another Dominion asks. "Is it truly mercy to not allow a human soul to enter Heaven when it is time?"

"It can be!" Bittiel exclaims, their fire burning brightly and their ice swirling faster. Jacquariel is taken aback. "Human life is so beautiful, so precious. I understand that their life in Heaven will be even more so, but this human wasn't ready for that! She was so young, only a _child_ , and she loved her life so much and gave so much of herself to everyone around her. I have helped so many children pass, knowing what awaits them on the other side, but just this once I thought she might be happier remaining on earth a while longer."

"And if the Siming reschedule her entry to Heaven, and you still believe she hasn't had enough time?" the Head asks. "Will you continue to delay her entry until you have decided she has been on earth long enough? What if she continues to love life and give of herself just as much as she has been? Would you make her immortal?"

"Well…" Bittiel's flames flicker with uncertainty. "Well, no, of course not. Most humans aren't as joyful and altruistic as she is, especially as adults, but I know well enough that if we took even just those who were and made them immortal, eventually the earth would become overpopulated and all of humanity would suffer."

"Do you believe that is the only reason we do not allow humans immortality?" A third Dominion, who had been sitting to the side, asks quietly.

"Of course not," Bittel says. "Their life in Heaven will surpass everything on earth, I know that. But there is so much for them to experience on earth that they will never experience again once they have left! It pains me every time I must take a soul away from that, but I do it anyhow because I know that I must. But some humans are given _so little_ time there. It isn't fair. Surely we could stop taking them so young, at least. Aside from the overpopulation, which we could control in other ways, how can it possibly benefit them?"

"We understand," the Head of the Council says. "Please go to the waiting area so that we may hear our next case."

Bittiel moves toward the pen Jacquariel is being held in, looking confused. Jacquariel is as well—is Bittiel's mistake to be excused? Why would they have to wait here if it were, but why would the Council not sentence them immediately if it weren't?

"Jacquariel," the Head of the Council calls. Jacquariel leaves the pen as Bittiel enters it. For just a moment, Jacquariel's eyes catch on the beauty of the other angel's bright, angry fire, but it is not something for them to dwell on. Not when the Council is waiting.

When Jacquariel is standing in front of the Council, the Head asks, "Do you know why you have been called before us?"

Jacquariel thinks it strange that they announced Bittiel's charges but want them to do it themself—perhaps to further shame them for a failure that is surely worse than Bittiel's.

"I, too, have failed," they begin. "My works have not been up to the expected standard of divine perfection for some time now. And instead of coming before the Council and facing up to that, I chose to ingest demonic essence so that I could hide my shortcomings."

The Council is quiet for a moment.

"That is what you believe?" asks the quiet Dominion in the corner.

"Yes?" It comes out as question, so Jacquariel tries again. "Yes. Helping to build the Great Library is a privilege, and I have shown myself unworthy of it. I am here so that I can be punished for my failings and for my misguided attempt to hide them."

The Council is quiet once again. Finally, one of the Council who hasn't spoken yet moves forward.

"You are here," they begin, more gently than Jacquariel deserves, "because the Council is concerned about your safety. Angels do not die often or easily, and when it does happen it is a great tragedy. You have become dependent on the demonic essence not only to work, but to function, and you ingested so much that you came very close to death. You are here because we need to help you break your dependence on this dangerous elixir before Heaven loses you."

Jacquariel doesn't understand what the Dominion means. They know that the Council decides on many aspects of angelic life, not only punishment for wrongdoing, but they _have_ done wrong.

"But I have failed in my duty as much as Bittiel," they insist, motioning to the angel now sequestered in the pen. "And without the demonic essence, I will fail again. Surely I deserve punishment as much as they do."

"We have not said that Bittiel is to be punished," the Head of the Council says. Jacquariel can see that Bittiel is as confused as they are. "What do you mean when you say you have failed in your duty?"

"My job is to expand and maintain the Great Library, keeping it up to the standard of divine perfection," Jacquariel says. "My recent creations have not been up to that standard."

"Who told you that your recent creations were not up to the standard of divine perfection?" the quiet Dominion asks.

Jacquariel stares at the Council, their many eyes taking in the five Dominions, trying to figure out what the Council wants from them.

"Nobody had to tell me. It's clear," they say. "The creations of the other angels working on the Library have clearly outshone mine, to a degree I am ashamed to admit!"

"You have been working on the Library for millennia, have you not?" the Head of the Council asks.

"Yes," Jacquariel says, "and it is only recently that I have been slipping. I am no longer worthy of the job."

"So surely you know that your creations are not judged against those of the other angels," the Head continues.

Jacquariel isn't sure what they're getting at. "Not officially, no, but I can see it. I have been doing this job long enough that I—"

"You have been doing this job so long," a Dominion cuts in, "that perhaps you have lost sight of your true purpose. What you have created is perfect because you have created it. You are a Banah, all of Heaven has been built by your kind, and all of Heaven is divine perfection. Every room you add to the library is unique, as is every room added by another Banah, and all are divine. All are perfect. You cannot create the same room another angel would create, and that is part of the divine perfection of the Library."

Jacquariel stands in silence. The Council doesn't seem to understand. They are not explaining themself properly; if they were, the Council would _understand_ how subpar their work on the Library is, would understand that they have failed in their duty. They have no way to know how long they were unconscious; perhaps there is no more demonic essence within them, and that is why they are being so slow and stupid and—

"We will return shortly," the Head's voice suddenly booms, and in an instant, Jacquariel is alone in the room with Bittiel. They do not go back to the pen, and Bittiel does not come out of it, likely just as loathe to do anything they haven't been commanded to do as Jacquariel. They look at each other uneasily.

Surely Bittiel will receive a brief punishment. They made a single mistake, and one that, no matter what hypotheticals the Council can come up with, will likely be easily corrected by the Siming. Jacquariel's work, on the other hand, has been going downhill for years, and at this point they are not even sure how long they have been relying on the demonic essence to cover it up. Surely even if the Council denies the first point, they cannot deny the second. They will likely demote Jacquariel to building something of less significance, less importance. Less grandeur. Something they will not ruin with their diminished skills.

Jacquariel does not have long to consider their fate before suddenly the Council is back.

"Bittiel," the Head commands, "please join Jacquariel so that we may give you our rulings."

Momentarily, Bittiel is by Jacquariel's side.

"Bittiel," the Head says again, "the Council believes that while you see the many beauties of human life, you do not understand that its fragility is an important part of what gives it value. As an immortal being, you do not fully appreciate that a life that may end at any moment is a life that is to be cherished. To help you understand this, you are to spend one human lifetime living on earth, fallen."

Bittiel's eyes widen. They do not look as upset at this sentence as Jacquariel would expect, only surprised. Their ice shines slightly more brightly, as though they may even be excited at the prospect.

The Head of the Council turns to Jacquariel.

"Jacquariel. You have, tragically, demonstrated that angelic life can sometimes be fragile as well, if not as much so as humanity. The demonic essence must be fully cleansed from your system so that you can return to your work, building the Library to Heavenly perfection, hopefully to understand the perfection of your own creations. You, too, will spend one lifetime fallen on earth, which should be enough time for the demonic essence to be purged so that when you return to your angelic form you will be healthy and ready to continue your work on the Library."

This is not one of the punishments Jacquariel imagined. "Surely there are other ways I can be denied access to the demonic essence," they say. "Earth seems a strange punishment for my inadequacy."

"This is not a punishment," the Head says, sounding confused, "for either of you. You have both made mistakes, but punishment would not help you correct those mistakes."

"Then why would you send me to earth?" Jacquariel asks. "To live as a human? Surely when I come back I will only be worse at my job than ever, especially without the essence?"

They will only end up back here, having to answer again for their shabby additions to the Library.

"Why do you think that spending time as a human would render you less able to create a building worthy of documenting their history?" the quiet Dominion asks.

Jacquariel sputters. "For one thing, I will simply be out of practice. But I cannot see how living as an imperfect being could possibly help me create perfection!"

The Council does not answer. Instead, all goes black. Again.

When Jacquariel awakes, they are breathing. They are lying down, and the ground beneath them is firm in a way that Heaven is not. They push themself to a sitting position, and their body is all wrong. One face with only two eyes to look around with, two arms to push with, ten fingers to create with. How do humans stand it?

They look up, and next to them is what appears to be a blonde man who looks just as confused. But as Jacquariel frowns, the blonde man's face breaks out in a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this a preview chapter. Normally, I don't start posting until I'm 100% done with writing and editing; this time, I'm still doing quite a bit of editing of the rest of the fic. But this chapter hasn't changed much since June, so I thought posting it might make me feel productive or something. It will be at least a couple of weeks before I start posting the rest, but once I do updates should be every couple of days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This is by far the longest chapter in this fic, but as you'll see it would be pretty difficult to split it up. Most of the other chapters are in the 4-8K range.

"Bittiel?" Jacquariel's mouth feels clumsy as it forms the word. Their voice is deep, raspy from never having been used before.

"Yes," Bittiel says. "Jacquariel?"

Jacquariel nods, then blinks in the sunlight and looks around.

"We seem to be speaking English," they note.

"Indeed we do," Bittiel agrees, "and in fact, I believe we've been dropped in the United States. This is Boston. This is a park called the Esplanade, and that's the Charles River right there."

"Right," Jacquariel says, their voice still a little creaky, "you spend most of your time on earth. You know your way around. That's convenient."

"And you," Bittiel says, tilting their head to look at Jacquariel closely, "have probably never been to earth in your life, have you?"

"I have," Jacquariel says with a shrug, "a few times."

Bittiel hums. "Well, no wonder they thought a lifetime here would do you good, then."

Jacquariel grunts. "They don't think that. Their main concern might be breaking me of the demonic essence, but this is punishment."

"Are you accusing the Council of Dominions of lying?" Bittiel asks, eyes wide.

"No," Jacquariel says with a sigh, "not exactly. They may tell themselves they aren't trying to punish me, but they knew I wouldn't want to be here. They specifically chose to send me to the place I avoid as much as I can."

"I know you don't often have reason to come here," Bittiel says cautiously, "but why would you _avoid_ it?"

Jacquariel shrugs. "I work on the Library. I love humanity as much as any angel does, but I know what their imperfection leads them to. I read about it all the time, from the wars and environmental destruction to petty arguments and broken hearts. I don't particularly want to see it up close. I love them, but I certainly don't aspire to _be_ them. I'm sad for them. I love them enough to want better for them. They should all just go straight to Heaven."

" _Sad_ for them?" Bittiel looks at Jacquariel like they're crazy. Jacquariel frowns harder. "How can you be sad for them? There's so much that they get to experience that we don't…" They pause, their eyes distant. "Most of us don't, I suppose. But really, Jacquariel—delicious food? Soft blankets? Your body cutting through the water as you swim—" They motion to the river, then look at it and pause. "Well, not in that water, but a pool or a beach? The warm sun—feel it, Jacquariel! The weather is beautiful, can't you feel the sun on your skin?" They reach out and tip Jacquariel's face toward the sun. It's the first time Jacquariel has felt another human's skin against their own, and it makes their breath hitch in a way the other sensations haven't so far. It isn't unpleasant, but it makes them… oddly uncomfortable.

They squint into the sunlight, then close their eyes. "Okay, the sun is warm," they say. "You can't tell me you'd take that over Heaven."

"Well, maybe not permanently," Bittiel says. "But humans get to experience Heaven eventually, too. This is… this is almost a _reward_ , I'd say—we get to experience something few angels ever will!"

Jacquariel opens their eyes to scowl at Bittiel again. "A reward? Even if the Council is merciful beyond what we deserve, they certainly don't hand out _rewards_ to angels who fail in their duties."

Bittiel raises an eyebrow, and Jacquariel needs to figure out how to do that. "I suppose one man's treasure is another man's trash," they say, "but I also suppose you might enjoy this life you've been given a little more if you at least _try_ to see it as a reward."

Jacquariel harrumphs. They're about to try to stand when instead they double over as they're attacked by a terrible, unimaginable sensation. It's like something inside of them is trying to eat them alive. They can feel their organs… _rippling_ , it seems. "What is this?" they cry, looking to Bittiel for help. "You call _this_ a reward?"

A growling sound emanates from Jacquariel's abdomen. Bittiel grabs their own abdomen, not doubling over but definitely unhappy with what is happening there. It gives a responding growl.

"I think we're hungry," they say.

"That's all?" Jacquariel asks in disbelief. "This is hunger? This is how humans feel every time they haven't eaten for a few hours? I'm going to feel this several times a day, every day, until I can leave this place? This isn't punishment, this is torture!"

Bittiel rolls their eyes. "Are you always so dramatic? I think this is much stronger hunger than normal," they say. "There's probably no food at all in these bodies. They think they're starving to death, even though they've actually only had to function for ten minutes with no food."

Jacquariel purses their lips, thinking. They're wearing pants, and they check all of the pockets but find nothing. "I have no money to buy food. Do you?"

Bittiel's eyes grow wide again, and they check their own pockets. "No! I don't! Oh goodness, maybe this _is_ a punishment. The Council's left us here with nothing and no way to get anything, we're going to live very short lives before we die of starvation—"

"Now who's being dramatic?" Jacquariel asks, and carefully pushes themself up to standing. They stagger a little before they get their balance. "You said you know your way around this city?"

"…Yes?" Bittiel says cautiously as they, too, try to stand.

"I know an angel near here. Well, not an angel anymore, obviously. She fell voluntarily several years ago, I'm pretty sure she's still in this area."

"Oh," Bittiel says, voice soft and reverent. "Oh, wow. Really? They'll never be an angel again? What inspired them to do that?"

"She was a Tarshish, and an ancient one, much, much older than me," Jacquariel explains. "They don't go to earth as often as you Guardians, but often enough. She fell in love with human art a long time ago. I never understood her obsession, but she spent centuries wanting to create the kind of art humans do. Then she fell in love with a human on top of that, and I guess that was enough to tip her over the edge. I think perhaps, being so ancient, she also felt like she had lived a long enough angelic life and wanted to experience something new. But I am certainly not old enough to feel that way yet!"

"She?" Bittiel asks, giving Jacquariel as curious look.

"I believe she's a woman now," Jacquariel says, understanding Bittiel's hesitancy. Both of them look down at their own bodies for a moment.

"I suppose we appear to be men," Bittiel says. "Doesn't mean we are, but…"

"I'm not sure what it's supposed to feel like to be a man," Jacquariel admits. "I still just think of myself as… me."

"Well, for now I guess we just try to remember that others will treat us as men," Bittiel says, "but back to this fallen Tarshish."

"Right. My point was, she lives in Cambridge, which I know is near Boston. I've… looked in on her a few times, since she fell. Those are the only times I've been to earth recently. But if you know where Cambridge is and can get us to the right neighborhood, I'm sure I can find her apartment."

"Do you have anything more specific than Cambridge?" Bittiel asks doubtfully. "That's a whole city. It'll take several hours for us to walk through every neighborhood, and it looks like it's afternoon. I'm not sure we have several hours before nightfall. Were there any landmarks near her building? Did you see any street signs?"

Jacquiel thinks. "There was a subway nearby," they finally say. "The sign on it said Central."

"Oh!" Bittiel's face brightens immediately. "That's not far at all! If I get us to the subway stop, can you take it from there?"

"Probably," Jacquariel says. "At least it will narrow it down, right?"

"We just walk along the river here until we get to that bridge over there." Bittiel points and Jacquariel follows their gaze, not that it's hard to see the one bridge in front of them. "Then we walk, I don't know, maybe a mile? Two miles? No more than that, right down that street, and there you go!"

Jacquariel's stomach growls again. It's not as terrifying as before, now that they know what to expect, but it's still extremely uncomfortable. "Let's get going, then."

"So what's her name?" Bittiel asks once they're walking down the sidewalk.

"Larissa," Jacquariel replies. "She kept her angelic name."

"Convenient that she had a name common to humans in this area," Bittiel says. "I think we might need to rethink ours. Why couldn't I have been Michael, or Raphael, or Hannah?"

"We can worry about that later," Jacquariel says. "First, we get to Larissa and get _food_. And maybe some water, too, I think that's what's wrong with my throat. I think I'm thirsty. Then we can worry about how we're going to… _exist_ here. Including names. Let's pick up the pace a little, Bittiel."

Bittiel huffs, but walks faster. "It was nice of the Council to drop us near your friend. I can't imagine that was an accident, of all the places we could be. And there are lots of people out, lying in the sunshine, enjoying the weather—so I guess we didn't look too strange lying there when we first woke up. If any humans saw us just appear, they didn't say anything at the time, so I guess they're not likely to. All in all, I think the Council was trying to take good care of us."

"If they were trying to take care of us," Jacquariel grumbles, "don't you think they would have left us with some money? We'd still want to get to Larissa, but wouldn't it be nice to buy something to eat on the way?"

"Maybe," Bittiel says, "but maybe they think we'll mess up if we try to interact with the humans—er, well, the other humans, I guess that's us now, technically—but if we try to interact with people before we get settled in enough. But I must admit, I cannot wait to eat food! Not just because my stomach kind of hurts, but haven't you always wondered what things taste like? I certainly have. And whatever that person we just walked past is eating, it smells _amazing_ , doesn't it? Who knew that _smell_ could be such a pleasure? If it smells that good, imagine what it must feel like to _taste_ it!"

Jacquariel tries to tune out most of Bittiel's chatter as they make their way to, and then across, the bridge. It's not hard, with so many new sensory experiences coming at them from every direction. They have to admit that some aren't awful (whatever that food was they'd walked past, the smell _was_ both delectable and torturous, as it made Jacquariel's stomach growl again), but it's all still a lot to get used to.

When they reach the subway station, Jacquariel takes a careful look around. "I think it was closer to that entrance," they say, and lead Bittiel down the sidewalk and across the street. (Cars, Jacquariel has already decided, are unpleasant in almost every way.) They duck down a side street, walk a couple of blocks, then take another side street. Finally, they stand in front of three extremely similar buildings.

"Do you know which one it is?" Bittiel asks.

Jacquariel is about to say they aren't sure, but it can't be that hard to try all the apartments (if the other two are like Larissa's building, there are only six in each), when something catches their eye. One of the windows has a beautiful stained glass creation hanging in it.

"That one," they say, pointing. "Larissa made that."

"It's beautiful," Bittiel breathes. "She's very talented."

Something almost like a smile flickers across Jacquariel's face for the first time since… well, long before he took too much demonic essence and passed out, at least. "Yes, she is."

They go inside and up to the apartment that the stained glass would be in, on the second floor, and knock on the door.

"I think this is the proper etiquette," Bittiel whispers. "There might be buzzers downstairs somewhere, but the front door was unlocked, so—"

The door opens just a few inches, a chain blocking its progress. The sliver of person that Jacquariel can see, though, is unmistakably Larissa.

"Yeah?"

"Larissa!" Jacquariel exclaims. "I wasn't sure I would actually be able to find you!"

"Who are you, and how do you know who I am?" Larissa asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Oh, right. I'm Jacquariel. From… Heaven?" Jacquariel grimaces. They know English, but apparently aren't very good with it.

"Oh, shit." Larissa's eyes go wide. The door slams shut, and for a moment Jacquariel's heart drops. Without Larissa, he and Bittiel don't stand a chance of survival.

But there's the rattle of the chain being removed, and the door opens again. Relief floods Jacquariel's body; they're surprised to find it's a physical sensation. Larissa looks around behind her into the apartment, then steps into the hallway with them.

" _Dude_ ," she says quietly as she closes the door behind her. "The fuck?"

To Jacquariel's surprise, she wraps her arms around them in a hug. They aren't exactly sure what to do, but sort of put their arms around her in return as they look at Bittiel over her head in confusion.

They've looked in on Larissa several times, but had never noticed that her human body is so… tiny.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to the hugging thing," Larissa says as she steps back. She glances over at Bittiel. "So, did you…"

"Oh," Jacquariel says, feeling foolish. "Sorry. This is Bittiel."

Understanding dawns on Larissa's face. "Ah. With a name like that, I guess he's not why you fell."

Jacquariel frowns at her, confused. "No? The Council saw us at the same time, and decided to… send us down together, I suppose. What do you mean, not why…"

"She thought I might be a human you fell in love with," Bittiel explains, then turns to Larissa. "I'm so sorry we had to bother you like this, but we just woke up on the Esplanade about an hour or so ago and, well, to be honest, we have no idea what to do or where to go."

"Or any money or… anything, really," Jacquariel adds. "Can you help us? Even just some food would be very helpful right now."

Larissa snorts. "I'm not gonna just hand you a sandwich and send you on your way. If no one was there to meet you when you woke up, the Council obviously intended for me to help you get oriented. Unless you know another fallen angel in the area?"

They both shake their heads.

"Well, come on in, then," she says. "Shitty—that's my partner—Shitty's home, so we can't talk too much with him around, but I can get you fed and watered and we can talk more when he leaves for work in the morning."

"Shitty doesn't know," Jacquariel says. Larissa pauses with her hand on the doorknob.

"No," she says. "It's not the kind of thing you tell a person when you've just started dating, and after a while, it just seems awkward to bring up, y'know? So follow my lead."

She opens the door and they follow her into the apartment. As soon as they're inside, a man with long hair and a mustache comes out of the kitchen.

"Hey! Who's this?"

"This is Jack," Larissa says quickly, motioning to Jacquariel. It seems like as good a human name as any. "And… Bitty. I mean, that's what we always called him." Bittiel blinks, clearly a little confused, but then goes with it and gives Shitty a wide smile. "They're friends of mine from college."

Shitty's eyes go wide, and Jack is worried he's going to call her out on not having friends by that name from college, but then his face splits into an even wide grin.

"Well, hey there!" he shouts, and is suddenly coming in to shake their hands with a lot of enthusiasm and shoulder-grabbing. "So fuckin' glad to meet you! Lardo doesn't talk much about college, y'know? You'll have to tell me all the embarrassing stories about her!"

Bittiel—Bitty—just smiles and nods but Jacquariel (no, Jack, it's _Jack_ now) frowns. "That would be rude of us."

To his confusion, Shitty just laughs loudly and slaps his back. "I like this one, Lards!"

"I've gained some new nicknames since college, as you can tell," Larissa (Lardo? Lards? Jack isn't sure what her name is at this point) tells them with a smirk. "C'mon, you guys must be starving, let's get some food in you."

"Oh my goodness, yes!" Bitty exclaims as they follow her into the kitchen. "I had no idea a person could even be this hungry!"

"They skipped lunch," Lardo tells Shitty.

"Well, hell, nuestra casa es su casa! Make yourselves at home, bros!" Shitty gestures expansively at the kitchen as he plops down in a chair at the table.

"Ooh!" Bitty says immediately, running to a fruit bowl on the counter. "You have bananas? Can I try one?"

"Eat literally anything you want," Lardo says. "I know how hungry you are."

"You've never had a banana?" Shitty asks, and Bitty freezes.

"Ha, well, I… had a very sheltered childhood," they say. Jack doesn't think it sounds very convincing, but Shitty doesn't press. Bitty grabs the banana and, after a few false starts, peels it, while Jack pokes around further in the fruit bowl.

Bitty takes a large bite and chews… then makes a terrible face. They appear to be forcing themself to swallow it with great difficulty. "I don't think I like bananas," they say.

"I'll try it," Jack offers, and Bitty gladly hands them the banana. They take a bite. It's not disgusting. The mushiness feels weird in their mouth, but not particularly unpleasant. They keep eating it while Bitty looks around, poking through a cabinet.

"Okay, so what tastes nothing like a banana?" they say, almost to themself.

Jack picks up an apple from the fruit bowl and inspects the little sticker on it. They may not be very good at being human yet, but they do know that not having tried a specific variety of apple is probably more likely than not having tried a banana. They take a bite of it to check. It certainly doesn't taste like a banana.

"Here," they say, holding the fruit out to Bitty, "this is a honeycrisp apple. You, um—you were saying you'd never had that kind, I think you might like it. It doesn't taste anything like the banana, I promise. It's good."

Bitty takes the apple hesitantly, eyeing it with suspicion. But when they take a bite, their face lights up. "Oh, yes! This is good! I like this a lot!"

While Bitty takes a couple more bites of the apple, Jack finishes the banana, then holds up the peel and looks at Larissa questioningly.

"That bin over there is for compost," she says. "You want anything else? We've got lots more than fruit."

"Yes," Jack says as they toss the peel into the bin. "I think I'm still hungry. I guess a banana isn't really a well-rounded meal. Do you have anything with protein in it? I probably need protein. And fats."

While Larissa opens the fridge and starts to rummage around, Bitty holds up the half-eaten apple.

"This is so good! But you know what I bet is even better? Apple pie. I've always wanted to try apple pie, and if the apples are this good then it must be delicious!"

Jack frowns. "Why would you want to take something that healthy and turn it into something less healthy? I've never understood that. The entire point of food is to keep your body functioning properly."

Bitty rolls their eyes. "You really are determined not to enjoy anything, aren't you?"

Larissa, by this point, has moved on to a cabinet. She grabs something from it and turns toward them. "Okay. Protein and fats, here's a jar of cashews. And Bitty, I think you'll like this." As Jack starts to open the jar of nuts, she hands Bitty something small and rectangular, wrapped in white paper.

Bitty's eyes light up as they pull off the wrapper. "Oooh! An ice cream sandwich! Thank you!" They bite into it and their eyes fall closed. Something about the look on their face makes Jack feel odd inside. For some reason, they suddenly remember how Bittiel's fire looked as the two of them passed each other in the Council's trial room. They eat a handful of the nuts to get rid of the feeling. "Oh, wow," Bitty says, "I think I like ice cream _a lot_."

Shitty, who has been watching them with a mix of confusion and amusement on his face this entire time, finally speaks up again. "Brah, I feel like I should be offering you fish fingers and custard here."

Bitty immediately perks up, looking toward him. "Is that good?" they ask as they take another bite of the ice cream sandwich. 

Shitty, for some reason, looks even more confused. Jack realizes that this is probably another common food that Bitty should, by all rights, have already tried.

Larissa opens her mouth to respond, but Jack gets there first. "Sorry," they say, "like it said, it had a _very_ sheltered childhood."

Now Shitty looks even more confused, but less amused, his brow furrowing. " _It?_ "

"As you can tell from the accent," Larissa jumps in, "Jack's first language isn't English. Those gender-neutral pronouns are tricky."

Jack runs over what he said in his head. "Gender, right," they mutter to themself, hopefully too quiet for Shitty to hear.

"Ah," Shitty says, nodding sagely and turning to Bitty. "You're an enby?"

"A what now?" Bitty asks, polishing off the last of the ice cream sandwich. They look to Lardo for help.

"Nonbinary," Lardo clarifies. "Yeah, Bitty is, um, agender."

"So they/them pronouns?" Shitty asks. "Cool. I'm he/him, in case you were wondering."

"Oh, agender," Bitty says. "Yes. Right."

Shitty looks at Jack expectantly.

"Um," Jack says. "I'm… agender… too." They don't manage to sound as confident as they were hoping, but at least they leave off the "I guess?" that was on the tip of their tongue. They look at Lardo, feeling a little panicky. This whole gender thing is so weird.

Shitty looks surprised, but goes with it. "Okay, cool. They/them?"

"I—yes?" Jack shoves another handful of cashews in their mouth to avoid having to say anything else. Bitty, having thrown away their wrapper, reaches for a handful as well. It's quiet for a moment as they both chew their cashews awkwardly. Bitty doesn't exclaim over how good they are, but they don't spit them out, either. Jack thinks they taste fine. 

"So, you guys went to college with Lardo!" Shitty says, seeming a little desperate for a topic of conversation. "How'd you like it there?"

"Oh, uh, good," Jack says.

Bitty nods enthusiastically. "I loved college. I took a lot of great classes and drank a lot of alcohol!"

Shitty laughs. "Isn't that the fucking truth? What were your majors? Were you art students like Lards here?"

"Oh! Well." Bitty's eyes dart to Lardo and then to Jack. Jack has filled their mouth with cashews again. They are starting to appreciate eating for a secondary purpose beyond fueling one's body: avoiding having to talk. 

"Jack was an architecture major," Lardo offers. Jack nods—that's a good idea. Architecture.

"And I studied… um… psychology!" Bitty says. Jack thinks they probably should have let Lardo keep handling it, but Shitty gives no indication of not believing them. "Yes. I'm very interested in… people."

"Cool, so what are you doing with that? You an architect, Jack?"

Jack nods and shoves more cashews into their mouth.

"I think he's been designing libraries," Lardo says. "Is that right?"

Jack nods.

"And I… um…" Bitty falters. "I'm… in between jobs at the moment."

"I hear ya," Shitty says, shaking his head. "It's tough out there. I'm a lawyer, and you wouldn't believe how competitive it is to get those jobs these days, even with a JD from Harvard! Not that I think that makes me a better lawyer than people who got their degrees other places, but that's usually the way it works with hiring, y'know? So what brings you two to Boston?"

Bitty gives Jack a pleading look. They suppose Bitty has pulled their fair share of the weight in this conversation, so they suppress the urge to eat even more cashews.

"Uh. Sports?" Jack knows that Americans value sports highly. Surely people travel for sporting events.

Shitty, however, doesn't look convinced. "Such as…?"

"They're here for a Red Sox game," Lardo jumps in, thankfully. "They're doing that thing where they're trying to see a game in every baseball stadium in the country."

"Yep!" Bitty says, a little too brightly. "Lots of baseball games! I love baseball! We're gonna go to a baseball game tomorrow!"

Shitty squints at them. "Aren't the Sox out of town right now?"

"Not _tomorrow_ ," Jack says. "We're just going to sightsee for a few days first. It's a nice city, right?"

That puts a smile on Shitty's face. "The best! Hey, I just saw something you might like—this list online, it's a walking tour of Boston for baseball fans! It's not one of those Fenway tours you pay for—I assume you're already planning to do that—but it's like, the area around Kenmore and the Fens, some baseball-themed pubs, places where players did shit, stuff like that." He pulls out his phone. "I should have it on here somewhere. What's your number, I'll text it to you?"

"I don't have a phone," Jack says.

Shitty blinks at him in surprise, but then looks to Bitty.

"Uh." Bitty freezes for a second, then exclaims, "They got stolen! Our phones. At the airport! This morning. It was awful. We don't have phones now."

"Yeah," Lardo chimes in, "that was why they dropped in out of the blue—they couldn't text me to let me know they were coming."

"Well shit, that sucks," Shitty says. "Well then, what's your email? You're welcome to use our laptops to check it, y'know, and order new phones and whatever else you need to do."

"My… email…" Jack is starting to think that it would seem very strange for them to not have an email address. "Shoot, I don't remember it exactly—it, uh… it's usually on my business card, and I don't have any on me?"

Shitty definitely looks suspicious now. Jack's kind of amazed this guy has gone along with most of what they've said, but they must have hit his limit. Even Lardo doesn't look like she knows what to do. Jack's heart is racing, and their chest starts to tighten. This stupid human body isn't even functioning properly, even with healthy food.

Shitty's face clears, though. "That's fine," he says. "What's the name of your firm? I'm sure your email address is on their website."

Jack freezes. They can't possibly talk their way out of this. If they were an architect, they'd work for a firm, and they would know its name, and it would be one that exists and that Shitty could find on the internet. Their chest keeps getting tighter—they _can't breathe_.

They feel Bitty's hand on their arm, and for some reason that's what breaks them.

"I'm sorry!" They gasp, looking from Bitty to Lardo and back again. "I can't do this! I don't know anything! I don't _have_ anything! I'm ruining everything, and I'm in a body that I don't understand and it's not working and I can't—I can't breathe—"

"Jacquariel." Suddenly Lardo is in front of him. She can't possibly have wings, but how did he not notice her moving? She puts her hands on his face. "It's okay. It's fine. I think you're having a panic attack. You need to breathe, nice and slow, okay?"

Jacquariel shakes their head. Their entire body is quivering. "I can't."

"Yes, you can, sweetheart," Bittiel says next to them. Bittiel, who is handling this _just fine_ and whose stupid _body_ isn't _breaking down_ at the slightest bit of stress.

Jacquariel struggles to gasp in a breath. Their face is hot, their ears are ringing.

"They probably won't even let me die," they manage to say after they somehow suck in another breath. "I told you, this isn't punishment, this is _torture_. I'm going to spend my entire time on earth feeling like this—"

"No you won't," Larissa says. Her voice is more commanding now, less gentle, and somehow that's what helps Jacquariel find a foothold on this downward slide. "This is temporary. Like I said, it's a panic attack, and it will end. You just need to breathe through it. Follow me."

She takes in a slow, exaggerated breath, and Jack suddenly believes her. Focusing on doing as Larissa does, they somehow make it through a few more breaths, each slower and less rattly than the last. Their heart starts to slow, their ears and face go back to normal.

Lardo nods and gives them a pat on the chest, then goes to sit at the table opposite Shitty. Shitty is sitting up straighter than before, tense, his eyes flitting between the three of them, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," Jack says once he can breathe again. "I'm sorry, I'm ruining this—"

"No," Larissa says, holding up a hand. "That wasn't under your control. Don't apologize." She sighs. "Why don't you two come sit down?"

Bitty grabs the can of cashews and puts it on middle of the table where everyone can reach it as they sit. Jack gratefully grabs a few. Because they're still hungry, not to shove their mouth full—though maybe they should have done more of that, instead of trying to come up with unconvincing lies.

Lardo looks between the three of them, then nods to herself. She seems to have come to some decision.

She knocks twice on the table. "Right," she says. "So that went to shit a lot faster than I expected. I forgot how fucked up the first few days are. Okay, I'm just going to go with 'the Council knows what the fuck they're doing' here. They could have sent you down when Shitty's at work, or even when he's out of town, but they didn't. They sent you down on a Sunday afternoon while we're just chilling at home, and they plopped you down within easy reach of my apartment, knowing that Jacquariel knows where I live. They meant for you to be here now, even with Shitty here."

Shitty takes a deep breath. "Okay. Babe. What the fuck."

Jack sits quietly and eats a cashew. Larissa has taken charge, and they are _perfectly happy_ to let her do so. Bitty appears to be doing likewise.

"Shits," Larissa begins, folding her hands on the table and leaning forward, "you have been so amazing when it comes to not poking at things you know I don't wanna talk about, right? You respect my boundaries like whoa. And I know that the details I've given you on my life before I met you are kind of sketchy and you've probably twigged to the fact that it's… not conventional."

Shitty looks worried now. "Lards, were you guys in some kind of cult or something? Did they, like, keep you underground and tell you it was the apocalypse and not let Bitty eat bananas?"

"We are never bingeing an entire season of Kimmy Schmidt in one day again," Lardo says. "But that's beside the point. I guess it's actually not the worst guess." She straightens a little, and looks Shitty right in the eyes. Jacquariel holds their breath. "We're angels, Shits. All three of us. Fallen angels. These two have only been on earth for like a couple hours, tops."

Shitty opens his mouth like he's going to say something but then stops, leaving his mouth half open as he looks between the three of them.

"It's true," Bitty says quietly. Jack nods. They really, really hope they haven't destroyed Larissa's relationship with the guy she _fell from Heaven_ to be with. How did they fuck everything up so badly, so quickly?

After a few more false starts, Shitty closes his mouth and just sits, frowning thoughtfully. Larissa lets him, but grabs her phone.

"You guys need a real meal," she says quietly, looking at Jack and Bitty. "I'm ordering Indian. I'll get a bunch of different things so you can figure out what you like, okay?" They nod.

"I mean," Shitty finally says as Larissa taps away on her phone, "it does explain a lot. It definitely sounds fucking crazy, don't get me wrong, but you—" He points at Bitty. "—legit had never had a banana before, and you were, like, _excited_ to try one. As if bananas aren't all over the fucking place where you're from. You could be from another country, but you've got this deep south twang that you just don't get growing up outside of the U.S."

"I do, don't I?" Bitty says. He looks at Lardo. "What's up with that?"

She shrugs, not looking up from her phone. "The Council gave you the grown bodies, including the grown brains, that they thought you needed to find your way down here. That includes a lot of shit like language and muscle memory and stuff."

"Est-ce pour cela que je connais le français?" Jack asks.

"I think your body's Canadian," Lardo says, squinting at him. "Those sore-ys, plus the Frenchish accent and all? You must be Quebecois."

"I'm guessing there's no way for you to prove this shit, is there?" Shitty asks. "Can you still do any angel magic or anything?"

"Nope," Larissa says as Jack and Bitty shake their heads. "We are one hundred percent human now. The only difference is, these two don't know _how_ to human."

"Okay," Shitty says slow. "Okay, for now I'm just gonna go with this. I'm not saying I'm a hundred percent convinced here, but I trust you, Lards. I'm gonna trust that if this shit isn't true, you're at least not gonna get us into anything dangerous with these guys."

Jack shifts in their chair and eats another cashew. They're surprised that Shitty was so easily convinced. It worries them a little. What if Shitty is lying, and is going to get them all in trouble somehow?

Before their thoughts can spiral out of control again, Lardo moves the conversation along with finesse.

"Thanks, babe," she says to Shitty first, "I love you so much, you have no idea. Okay, so we're gonna need to contact Johnson, get you guys set up with human identities." 

"Who's Johnson?" Bitty asks.

"He's a prophet," Lardo explains. Jack realizes that he has no idea what prophets do these days. "There are a few scattered around. He's human, but angels speak to him. Usually, he's notified when an angel is going to fall, and he's there to meet them. He met me when I fell. He didn't need to do that for you guys, because the Council knew you could find me, but he has all sorts of connections to get new IDs and stuff. Runs in his family."

"You're sure these guys are angels, and not, like, the mafia?" Shitty asks, squinting at them.

Lardo snorts. "Did you see these two? They're struggling to handle fruit, you really think they could survive organized crime? Anyhow, for most of human history, falling wasn't that hard. You woke up, you found the nearest village or tribe or whatever, you claim you were attacked and don't remember who you are or where you're from, someone takes you in and gives you work to do and there you go. But in the past hundred years it's become this big _thing;_ you can't get a job without a Social Security number and identification, you can't do _anything_ if you're not in all the right computer systems. So now the prophets are in charge of all that."

"Great," Jack mutters.

"Tell me about it," Lardo agrees. "So anyhow, you're gonna need names. Thoughts?"

"You don't have names?" Shitty asks.

"We do," Bitty chimes in, "but they would sound weird here, and we'll need last names. My name is Bittiel, and he's Jacquariel. Bitty doesn't sound like a legal name either, but honestly I like it!" They perk up a little. "I think it suits me."

"I was definitely thinking of it as a nickname," Lardo says, looking at Bitty thoughtfully. "Maybe if you have a last name that it could be based on. Bittle? It's pretty darn close to Bittiel."

"Okay," Bitty says. "Bittle works. Something Bittle. Maybe Eric? I've always kinda liked Eric."

"Sure," Lardo says. "Eric Bittle, nicknamed Bitty. We can deal with middle names some other time." She turns to Jack. "Does Jack work for you?"

They nod. "It sounds like a nickname for Jacquariel anyhow. I need a last name, though."

"Right," Lardo says slowly, nodding as her gaze bores into Jack. "You're a Banah?" Jack nods. "Okay, well, we could go with Carpenter, although that feels a little on the nose."

"Jack Carpenter," Jack repeats. It doesn't sound right. "I don't know."

"How about Zimmermann?" Shitty chimes in. "That's, like, German for carpenter. I think."

"Jack Zimmermann," Jack says slowly. "Okay, sure. That works."

"Awesome," Lardo says. Then she takes a deep breath. "So. Gender. What a fucking trip, am I right?"

Jack shakes their head, eyes wide. "I don't get it."

"So…. angels don't have gender, I'm guessing?" Shitty asks.

"Nope," Lardo says. "But that doesn't mean all fallen angels are agender, or at least not permanently. You've got that human brain in there, and you'll be living in a human society. More fallen angels ID as nonbinary these days than, like, the general public, but a lot of us do wind up leaning either male or female. I ID as genderfluid—like, I'm a female most of the time, but I still get these periods where it weirds me out and I'm just like, fuck gender entirely, what even is this. So sometimes I lean nonbinary and prefer they/them pronouns, but I don't really care if people use she/her even then."

"How do you know?" Jack asks. "Did you just... get used to having a vagina so you figured you're a woman?"

Lardo laughs. "Not quite. Transgender angels do exist. They're given bodies that would have been called male by humans at birth, but realize they're female, or vice versa. And unfortunately, I really can't explain it. I know at first, you're dropped in here, and it's just such a foreign concept. Even watching humans deal with it for millennia, having it as a part of yourself is just… unimaginable, right?"

Jack nods, while Bitty looks thoughtful.

"But right now, you're overwhelmed, you're being bombarded by nothing but new shit after new shit all the time. Don't worry about figuring out gender on top of all that just yet. You can ID as agender or nonbinary, or whatever you want for the moment. Or, if you just want to make your interactions with other humans as simple as possible—I'm guessing you both have dicks?"

They both look down and kind of poke at their genital areas. Shitty tries not to laugh, but isn't very successful.

"Yeah, I seem to," Jack says.

"Me, too," says Bitty.

"And you've both chosen traditionally male names," Lardo adds. "So basically, if you want to make things simple with other humans, you could ID as male for the moment, and you can always change it as you figure shit out."

"Maybe I'll just stick with agender for now?" Bitty says, sounding unsure of even that. "But… I don't know, I don't think that's right, but it's what I've been for so long and there are so many changes going on."

"Totally understandable," Lardo says. "We'll go with agender and they/them pronouns for you for the moment, and just let us know if that changes. Jack, any ideas?"

Jack shakes their head. They know they look male. But how they even _know_ if they _feel_ male? Or female, for that matter? And does it even matter?

"I just… I have no idea," they admit. "I don't get it."

"Let's just stick with agender for you right now, too, then," Lardo says, and Jack nods. "Then there's sexuality, which we can get into some other time. Suffice it to say that you're probably asexual right now; basically all angels are when we get here. You're way too overwhelmed with everything else for sex to even register. You might stay ace, you might not. You could be anywhere on the sexuality spectrum, just like with gender, though a lot of angels wind up pansexual and panromantic because, well, we don't understand gender well enough to, like, differentiate attraction based on it. I identify as pan. You almost definitely will not be aromantic, because like, we're angels, y'know? Even if we're not anymore."

"What does that mean?" Shitty asks.

"We are love," Jack answers. "In Heaven. Above everything else, we're created for love."

"All kinds of love," Bitty adds. "Any culture's concepts of love, types of love, they all came from us originally. So I guess, y'know, sex, that's a new ballgame for us, so it makes sense that some of us wouldn't ever feel sexual attraction, but an angel who can't fall in romantic love? Even an ex-angel? That does seem unlikely."

"It doesn't sound right in English," Jack muses. "It… our relationship to love, I don't think you can explain it in human language. It doesn't work."

Bitty hums in agreement.

"Huh," Shitty says. He looks at Lardo curiously. "So what was your angelic name?"

She grins. "That's an interesting story. I was a Tarshish, which is a type of angel who comes to earth in a semi-human form sometimes. We're called Virtues in a lot of Christian texts, but we never liked that name. Tarshishim help the Guardians when there are natural disasters that threaten to send large numbers of people to Heaven before their time. We have some measure of control over nature—not omnipotent, but I could calm a hurricane down a couple categories, or contain a forest fire, stuff like that. Sometimes we have to talk to humans through the prophets to contain the situation. So in a lot of religions we got a reputation as the angels who work miracles. In ancient Greece, though, they didn't really have a concept of angels per se; they interpreted Tarshishim as nymphs. Nature spirits. There was this big storm, and a whole shipload of men got caught in it, so I had to help them, blah blah blah—anyhow, they decided I was a sea nymph. And that clearly I must be married to Poseidon to have such power, blah blah blah—"

"I cannot believe you're blah blah blah-ing so much of this story," Shitty says. His fingers are threaded into his hair as he stares at her, astonished.

"Well, the Poseidon part and all that stuff isn't even true!" Lardo insists. "And it all got mixed up in the telling, just like every human encounter with an angel. Somehow, the whole part about me calming the storm and keeping their ship from capsizing—they totally forgot that part! It's not even in the myth anymore! Instead, now three of the guys who were on that ship are supposedly the sons I bore for Poseidon. But, I mean, the point is, they remembered my name at least and named a city after me and shit, which is more recognition than a lot of angels get from humans. So that's cool."

By this point, Shitty has his phone out and is typing away on it. Jack jerks back as he shoves the phone across the table, into Lardo's face.

"Are you fucking telling me that you're _the_ Larissa that the name Larissa _comes from?_ "

Lardo shrugs. "I guess. I lucked out—nobody used that name in the U.S. until like the '60s. If I'd fallen a century or two ago, I probably would've needed a new name, too."

Shitty focuses on his phone again, typing and scrolling frantically. "So, wait," he says. "From everything I can find on the myth… they got literally everything wrong except your name?"

"And calling me a sea nymph, because I helped out guys on a boat. Nymph, angel—most of the human words aren't quite right _or_ wrong, so I'm not gonna quibble about that one. But yeah, that's pretty normal."

Jack finally speaks up. "She's right. That's pretty good for a human myth that originated as oral tradition, really. It didn't get written down properly for, I don't know, centuries? More?"

Lardo nods. "At least. Millennia. Cities rose and fell, and people told the story of how those cities were founded by these three guys from this boat. It changed a lot even before they decided I was married to Poseidon. At one point, they had me actually birthing these guys on the sea, into this boat, adult and fully-formed. But anyhow, by the time anyone wrote it down, it was the Poseidon version."

Shitty stares at them all in turn, eyes wide.

"I'm gonna need to chill out a little to take this shit in," he says, and abruptly leaves.

"Okay?" Bitty says to Shitty's retreating back.

"He means he's gonna go vape," Lardo explains. "Like, weed? I don't blame him."

"I can't believe he believes us," Jack says.

"No kidding," says Bitty.

"I don't think he can believe he believes us," says Lardo. Her phone buzzes. "Oh, hey, dinner's here!"

Ten minutes later, Jack and Bitty have helped Lardo set out the various cartons of Indian food, and the air in the kitchen is heavy with a mix of pungent scents. Just the smell alone is overwhelming; Jack isn't sure they're ready for tasting it, but they _are_ still very hungry.

Shitty is back by then, looking a little less freaked out about the situation, and he helps Jack and Bitty load up their plates.

"No, my friend, you _must_ try a samosa, this is a requirement," he insists, dropping a fried tetrahedron onto Jack's plate.

"I have enough already, and the rest of this looks healthier than fried food…" Jack says doubtfully.

"Jack. Jacquariel. Jackabelle." Shitty takes them by the shoulders and turns them to face him. "Eating healthy is great. I get it, man, you just got this body, it's a very nice one, and you wanna keep it in tip-top shape. But that doesn't mean that every single bite that passes your lips must individually be perfectly healthy. You just need a well-rounded diet where you get enough of all the right things over the course of a few meals, and not enough of the wrong things to upset the balance. And one samosa—which has peas in it, by the way, peas are wicked healthy—one samosa will not upset that balance. Ya dig?"

"I guess I dig," Jack says, but they're still frowning at the greasy thing on their plate.

"Oh, come on, you gotta at least _try_ everything!" Bitty says, gleefully slopping butter chicken onto their rice. "If you don't like it, you never have to eat it again. Like bananas. Trying it once won't hurt you, though."

Jack doesn't have the energy to fight everyone on this, so they retreat to the table, their plate heavy with what is likely more food than they should try to fit into their brand-new stomach.

"So what about you two?" Shitty asks once they're all seated, as though their previous conversation had never been interrupted by his own inability to handle it. "I don't recognize your names, did anyone name something after you but just fuck it up?"

Jack snorts and shakes their head. "No way."

"Not that I know of," Bitty says. "For the most part, humans never see me until they're already dead. Oh, the sauce on this chicken is amazing!"

"So, no miracle-working for you?"

Bitty tilts their head back and forth noncommittally, mouth full of another bite of the butter chicken. "I'm a Guardian. So yeah, I intervene when people are in danger and it's not time for them to die yet, which I guess to a human counts as a miracle? But I almost never have to take a corporeal form to do it. Once it's their time and they do die, though, I escort their soul to Heaven."

"So guardian angels are real." Shitty leans back in his chair, stroking his mustache. "Who knew, all the kooky new-agers got it right."

All three of the fallen angels laugh at that one.

"My goodness, not quite!" Bitty says. "Like we were saying, most human myths and legends get, like, one thing right and eighty things wrong. Now, my angelic form does look like fire and ice to celestial eyes, so there are some Hebrew and Islamic texts that get that right. But we aren't there to protect you from everything, or to guide you or help you make good decisions or anything like that. We really only have one job: to make sure you die when you're supposed to die, and not before… or after." They look at their food sheepishly, no doubt remembering why they're on earth to begin with.

"Huh," Shitty says, stabbing a chunk of paneer in his puddle of saag. "So… that's sounding a lot like predestination." He raises an eyebrow, and looks at all three angels as if he's challenging them to argue. "Are you telling me we humans don't have free will to live and die when we please?"

"Only a little predestination," Bitty says. "Just the dying part, really."

"Look, Heaven is huge, right?" Lardo puts her fork down and leans her elbows on the table to address Shitty more directly. "I mean, how many human souls are even up there by now? I'm pretty sure we're over a hundred billion. Right now we've got, like, fifty million people dying each year. Can you even imagine the logistical nightmare this is? We've got an entire class of angels, the Siming, whose job is just to calculate when souls should be born and die so that we can keep making room for them and do it all efficiently. And they have to constantly recalculate everything _because_ of all that free will. As the population's skyrocketed, they've given up on even bothering to control births, they spend all their time making sure everyone's death is on target. So do whatever the hell you want in the meantime, but when your time is up, if you don't step in front of a bus you'll just, like, have a heart attack or whatever. Which is _not_ —" She pokes her fork at Shitty for emphasis. "—an excuse to do dangerous shit or be super unhealthy or whatever. People dying early because their Guardians could only do so much is a huge problem, the Siming are constantly having to account for it and Bana'im like Jack have to rush to get stuff built early."

Shitty bites off a chunk of naan and chews thoughtfully.

"It's true," Jack supplies. "I don't work on that part of Heaven, but I know angels who do, and they hate it when someone dies before what's meant for them is finished."

"Okay," Shitty says. "So our deaths are all preordained but that's about it. We've got guardian angels to enforce that, plus that one you were—" He motions at Lardo.

"Tarshishim," she supplies.

"Right. Tarshishim to help them out when big natural disaster shit happens. So then there's you." He points to Jack, who swallows the bite they were chewing (they've already forgotten which thing they'd taken a bite of). "She called you a Bana'im? And before, she said you're a carpenter?"

"Bana'im is plural. It's Hebrew. I'm one Banah. Or, I was, I guess. We build Heaven and maintain it. So we don't really come to earth or interact with humans very often." They shrug. "There's not even any surviving writings about us. Nobody cares who creates Heaven, just whether or not they get to go."

"Yikes," Shitty says. "I guess angels can be cynical too, huh?"

"I'm not an angel anymore," Jack says shortly, setting down the glass they'd just picked up. "I fucked up, now I'm human. I can be as cynical about humans as I want."

They stare down at their half-eaten food. They don't even remember what tasted like what, or which things they liked better than which other things. None of it was disgusting—that's all they've really processed about the whole meal.

They're probably going to be eating human food for decades; they should probably pay more attention to their own preferences.

"So how's your food?" Bitty breaks the awkward silence. "I just love everything, honestly. The rice is kind of dry on its own, but it's really good for soaking up the extra sauces. I guess that's probably why it's there. What did you like best, Jack?"

Jack clenches their jaw and doesn't scream. "It's all fine. It—I don't know, it all tasted kind of the same, I guess. It's all food." They look at Lardo, catching her eye. "Thank you, Larissa, for feeding us. Truly. Hopefully soon we'll be able to provide for ourselves, and we can repay your generosity."

Lardo smiles a little. "It's fine, Jack. I'm sure you'll pay it forward." She takes a deep breath. "So. Sounds like we've already dived right into Awkward Conversation Time, so while we're here, let's just get down to it—why _are_ you here, Jack? Why did you find yourself before the Council?"

Jack sighs. They're going to have to tell her eventually, so they might as well get it out of the way.

"The quality of my work has been… deteriorating lately. I don't know why, I just… my work hasn't been up to that of the other Bana'im for a long time now. That's bad enough, but… instead of facing that fact and dealing with a demotion or whatever the Council would do, I started using demonic essence."

"Oh, Jacquariel," they hear Larissa murmur.

"It was helping me. It's not like it was making me better than the others, or getting me… _high_ , I guess is the human equivalent. It just made me feel normal. I could focus on my work, I didn't spend all my time comparing myself to the others. But eventually, I… I took too much. The Council said I almost died."

Larissa reaches out and puts her hand over Jack's. It's strange, how comforting touch can be for a human.

"I'm so glad you didn't," she says. "Are they hoping that by the time you get back, you'll have a clean break from the essence?"

"That's what they say," Jack says. "They claim sending me to earth isn't intended as a punishment for the rest, but what else can it be?"

"Jack." Larissa squeezes their hand, and when they look at her, she's scowling. "If the Council wanted to punish you, you'd be in Dudael right now, or even Tartarus. They do not send angels to earth as punishment, period."

Jack sighs. "If they know that I didn't want to come here, they might."

"No," she says firmly. "I served on the Council once, Jack. I know how they work. Humanity is _never_ a punishment. The Council only sends angels here for education. There's something they think you could learn from living out a human life."

"Why didn't they tell me what I'm supposed to learn, then?" Jack pulls their hand away. They shouldn't snap at Larissa like this, but they can't help it. "They told Bittiel exactly what they're supposed to learn!"

Lardo's gaze bores into him for another moment, then she turns abruptly to Bitty. "Okay, so what's your story?"

"It was a girl's time to die, and I didn't take her soul," Bitty says quietly, looking down at their food, poking at it with their fork. "I wanted to show her mercy. I wanted to let her enjoy life on earth for a little bit longer. The Council says I need to learn that… that the fragility of human life gives it value."

Lardo nods. "That's pretty straightforward. I can't imagine you making it through a lifetime without having that drilled into your head by the end of it."

"See?" Jack says, motioning to Bitty incredulously. "If I'm supposed to learn something from this, why didn't they tell me what it is?"

"Maybe that's part of the process of learning it," Lardo says.

"They did say that when you come back, hopefully you'll understand the perfection of your own creations," Bitty points out.

Jack rolls their eyes. "I don't need a lifetime here to understand the difference between human imperfections and Heavenly imperfections. Humanity was created to be flawed, I know that my creations are closer to perfection than anything on earth." It sounds more dismissive, more conceited, honestly, than they intend. But they've only been on earth for a few hours and already humanity's failings and weaknesses are driving them crazy. The Council can't possibly want them to compare what they build to any of _this_.

"I don't think they mean you should compare your works to those of humans," Bitty says. "In fact, I think comparing is exactly what they want you to stop doing."

" _How would you know?_ " Jack holds themself back from hitting the table, but only barely, instead grabbing the seat of their chair tightly. The rage that flows through them—it's nothing an angel would experience. It's a wild, uncontrollable thing. "You're a Guardian! Your tasks are simple and clear, you do them or you don't, people live or they die, and you couldn't even do that. You have no idea what it's like, to continually create new and unique designs, to hope that each one is worthy of its place, but never _really_ know if it was. And you just have to go on to the next one and try to make it even better, and on and on, and you _never really know_ if you're doing it exactly right, if they're divine enough, glorious enough, to do justice to the records they're built to house!"

They're shouting by the time they're done. Bitty is cringing away, but looks less scared of Jack than pitying them. Larissa is looking at them with sad eyes—not pitying, but sad all the same.

The truth is, Jack isn't even sure who or what they're so angry at—themself? The Council? The other Bana'im they can't measure up to? Whatever God there might be that created the angels and humanity, that made Jacquariel a Banah and set them all to their tasks?

"Anger's a bitch, isn't it?" Lardo says kindly. She turns to Shitty, who looks uncomfortable. "Angels don't get angry in Heaven. We're not happy all the time, we do have a range of emotions, but anger, real true _rage_ , isn't one of them. It's hard to get used to." She glances at Bitty as she takes a bite of her food. "Don't worry, you'll get your turn."

"Sorry," Jack mutters. "I know it's not your fault. None of you. I just… The desperation, the inadequacy, those I knew how to deal with, but this… what am I supposed to do with this? How do I fix it?"

They're surprised when it's Shitty who responds. "Sometimes you can't fix it, but you can usually do something with it. It might take you a while to figure out what, but a lot of the time, if you're really pissed about something, there's some way you can channel that into change."

Jack looks at him incredulously. "I can't change Heaven."

"I didn't say you can always change the thing you're mad at," he says. "Which sucks. But sometimes the only thing you have any control over is yourself."

Jack looks at Lardo. "You're sure this isn't a punishment? It feels like punishment."

"The Council knows what they're doing," she says with complete confidence. Jack wants to trust her. "That doesn't mean they expected you to be happy about it, but you are here to learn and they've given you what they see as the best chance to do that. Nothing about this is a coincidence—the body you're in, the fact that you came down near me, the fact that the two of you are together."

"They only put Bitty with me so I'd bring them to you so they wouldn't be homeless," Jack says dismissively.

"No," Lardo cuts in almost before they can finish. "I told you, there are prophets to care for most fallen angels. The Council wanted you both here, and they wanted you here together. Even if you can never figure out their reasons, they did have them."

Jack tries not to sulk like a petulant child while they finish eating; they never realized how difficult that is. No wonder it takes humans years to grow out of it.

Jack and Bitty help clean up, as best they can. Nothing on earth is quite the same as in Heaven; Jack had always considered their existence to be physical, but somehow physicality on earth is so much _more_ physical. They'd washed things in Heaven, of course, but washing a dish is very different.

It occurs to them that they probably won't be able to build things here, not without years of practice. It's a thought that should be distressing, but they simply don't have any distress left in them for the day.

"I don't feel so good," Bitty says as they finish. "I feel heavy."

"Your stomach?" Shitty asks. "Indian food doesn't agree with everyone."

"Nah," Lardo says. "I bet you're just tired."

"Angels don't get tired?" Shitty asks.

"Not like this," Bitty says. "I mean, we need breaks. If you work for too long, it gets harder to stay focused. It's draining, but it's not a physical thing. We have bodies, but they don't have so many needs. They just… are."

"Everything is more physical here," Jack mutters, voicing their earlier thoughts. "The bodies, everything."

"Yeah," Bitty agrees. "Your body has to do work to interact with things! It feels so weird."

"Welcome to earth, my friends," Lardo says. "You guys can crash with us until you get your lives in order, we've got a spare room."

"There's only one bed in there," Shitty says, "you might have to take turns on the couch or something."

"It's a big bed," Lardo says with a shrug, "they'll both fit, no problem."

Shitty looks at her, then Jack and Bitty. He looks like he's trying to figure something out. "You guys are okay with that?" he finally says.

Jack and Bitty both shrug. "Sure," Jack says. "Why, will it be uncomfortable?"

"Well, not physically," Shitty says, looking doubtful.

"Shits." Lardo takes his hands. "They've never experienced sexual attraction, and they don't have decades of gender roles and heteronormativity and homophobia weighing them down. It's not an issue for them."

"Should it be?" Jack asks.

"No," Lardo says. "You're lucky to not have all the societal conditioning telling you that sleeping in the same bed is always sexual, or should be or whatever. It's ridiculous. Sleeping in the same bed only really gets uncomfortable once you get attraction involved, or if you're convinced by society that there _must_ be attraction involved when there's not. You probably won't want to share forever, for a lot of reasons, but don't let stupid human shit convince you you shouldn't be okay with it for now."

"Our entire lives are now nothing but stupid human shit," Jack points out.

Bitty puts their hands on their hips. "I just don't think I can handle what a ball of sunshine you are, Jack. Your optimism is overwhelming."

Jack just glares.

"Okay," Lardo says, taking each of them by the arm. "Time to learn how to brush your teeth."

Soon they're lying in the (very large indeed) bed in the dark, each keeping to their own side because Shitty implied that was how they should do it to minimize the chances of problems in the middle of the night.

"I'm scared of sleeping," Bitty admits quietly. "Being tired is awful, but at least my eyes are open and I'm aware of my surroundings. Anything could happen while I'm asleep."

"I passed out," Jack says. "From the demonic essence. When I woke up, I was being held to go before the council. It was really disturbing, going under, but then it's like the time when I was unconscious didn't exist. I just skipped to being awake."

"How long were you out?" Bitty whispers, turning on their side toward Jack.

"I don't know. Long enough for someone to find me, for them to—do whatever needed to be done, I guess, to save my life. I assume if I was close enough to dying for the Council to worry about me, I must have needed some kind of treatment. I don't know, you heard everything the Council said to me, so you know as much as I do."

"They didn't even tell you what happened to you?" Bitty asks, louder. "They didn't tell you anything except what I heard?"

"No," Jack says. "I wonder if that was part of the Council's top-secret grand plan for me. I couldn't possibly learn the right things if I knew how long I was unconscious. Or maybe they just couldn't be bothered to tell me."

"I'm sorry," Bitty says. They reach out and lay a hand on Jack's arm. Jack covers it with their own.

"At any rate, if sleeping is anything like that, I'm not scared of it. I'd rather not, but we don't get a choice now, eh?"

Bitty sighs. Neither of them move their hands, and they're still there when Jack feel themself being pulled under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Est-ce pour cela que je connais le français? = Is that why I know French?
> 
> Thanks to a short writing hiatus during the frenzy of FTH, I'm still doing a lot of editing on later chapters. So I won't quite be settling into a regular posting schedule yet, but for now it shouldn't be more than a week between chapters, tops. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all need more fic right now, so I'm going to try to be less perfectionistic with my editing process so I can try and get chapters up every few days! I have at least one more scene I need to fit in, but it's not until, like, chapter 7, so it should be fine.
> 
> In the middle of this chapter, when Jack gets his laptop and is reading the news, honestly it felt a little weird to me as I read it over for my final proofreading check. I just... don't really want to read about how shitty the world is, even only for a couple paragraphs. But it's kind of an important little bit of character development, so I trimmed it down a smidge but left it in. If it bugs you, just know that it really is only a brief conversation that's not very detailed, and if you need to skip it you can go down to "By the time Shitty gets home." 
> 
> I generally apologize for the fact that these chapters are not the fluff-fest that I, personally, would prefer to read right now, but things do get fluffier as Jack gets his attitude adjusted, I promise.

The next thing Jack is aware of is a knock on the bedroom door. They grunt and sit up, trying to remember the current etiquette for this in this part of the world. Should they say _come in?_ Or are they expected to answer the door in person? Does it matter that they're technically in their underwear, even though boxers look a lot like the shorts Lardo was wearing yesterday?

They're saved from figuring this out by Lardo opening the door and poking her head into the room.

"Hey, sorry to wake you up. I just got off the phone with Johnson. He's been hiking the Appalachian trail, so he's actually in Massachusetts already. He'll be here around lunchtime. I thought it was weird he had cell service out there, but he said he 'had a feeling he'd be entering the narrative soon' so he got off the trail to stay at a B&B for a couple days. Prophets are weird, man."

"Okay," Jack says. Bitty is still nothing but a lump under the covers. "What do we need to do?"

"Well, it's about 9:30," Lardo says. "All you really need to do is shower, get dressed—you can borrow some of Shitty's stuff for now—and probably eat breakfast. You can sleep a couple more hours if you really want to."

Jack's body is stiff all over; what they really want to do is get it moving. "No, I'm ready to get up. I don't know about Bitty."

They poke the lump a few times, and finally it lets out a groan. A few seconds later, the top of Bitty's head down to their eyes appears.

"Wow," Bitty says groggily, "I thought sleep was gonna be the scary part. I had no idea waking up would be so much worse."

"Johnson'll be here in like three hours to get you guys set up," Lardo repeats for him. "So you don't have to get up yet unless you want to."

"You should," Jack says. "You don't want to get your body used to sleeping twelve hours a day. We should get some exercise or something before Johnson gets here."

"Exercise?" Bitty says, glaring at Jack.

"Maybe not right now," Lardo says. "You're gonna want, like, your own exercise clothes that fit right, and good running shoes and shit. You both have pretty athletic-looking bodies, so I doubt you'll be couch potatoes, but you can wait a day to start training for your first marathon."

Jack grunts. "Is there anything I _can_ do right now? I feel like… like my body hasn't moved enough."

"You might want to do some stretches," Lardo suggests. "A lot of people are stiff in the morning, it'll help. Come out here, I'll find some instructions or something. Bitty, you can go back to sleep."

Bitty disappears back under the covers with a "mmph" that might have been an "okay." Jack frowns at the re-formed lump, but doesn't try to get Bitty to stretch with them.

By the time Bitty does get up, Jack has peed (they didn't even miss this time, like they did last night; that wasn't fun to clean up) done a twenty-minute yoga routine following a video Lardo found, eaten a breakfast of whole wheat toast and eggs (Lardo let them use the toaster but insisted she cook the eggs and Jack just watch for now), showered and dressed, brushed their teeth, combed their hair (with help), and read the first chapters of three different books on Shitty and Lardo's bookshelves. None of the books had seemed likely to be useful to them.

"That bed is just so comfy!" Bitty says as Lardo oversees their pouring a bowl of the sugary cereal Jack had turned down. "The sheets are so silky smooth, and the pillows are so fluffy!"

They go on and on, about how good the cereal is, how beautiful the sky is outside the window, how amazing Lardo's art is. It's not that Jack necessarily disagrees with most of it (particularly Lardo's art), but with Shitty at work, it had been so nice and quiet with just Lardo there. It's impossible for Jack to concentrate on anything with Bitty's constant chatter.

Thankfully, soon Johnson is knocking on the door.

He's incredibly organized. It's clear that he's done this many times before; he knows exactly what they'll need and apparently has the contacts necessary to get it all.

"So, on the ID front, you're gonna need birth certificates, driver's licenses, social security cards, and sounds like probably a passport for you, Jack. We can make you a dual citizen, that'll make your life a lot easier."

"Of the U.S. and… Canada?" Jack guesses, since that's what Lardo said last night.

"Let's just check real quick—if you were gonna curse up a storm in French, like you just stubbed your toe and you're yelling every bad word you can think of, what would you say?"

"Euh…" Jack doesn't know _how_ they know what words they would use that situation, but they come up with, "Osti de tabarnak de—"

"That's good," Johnson holds up a hand to stop him. "Yep, you're from Quebec. I'll just put Montreal on your birth certificate. Bitty, how does a small town outside Atlanta, Georgia sound?"

Bitty shrugs. "Sure."

"Cool. On top of ID, you're both gonna need high school diplomas at a bare minimum. Depending on what jobs you wanna get, probably college degrees, too. Those are easy enough, I can get you put in the system at a big public school or something and if anyone checks the records, you'll be there. You've probably got enough general knowledge that faking a liberal arts degree is fine. Most things that require a lot of specialization you probably don't know enough about, though, so if you want to do something that needs an advanced degree or something like nursing or engineering, we can help get you into the right program.

Jack looks over at Bitty, who seems as overwhelmed as they are.

"Do we have to figure this all out today?" Bitty asks, and it's the same question that was just on Jack's mind. "I have no idea what kind of job I might want."

"I never imagined I'd have to _choose_ a job," Jack says, a little dazed. "There are so many. How do humans do it? And we don't even have any experience. A degree is one thing, the stuff we were supposed to learn in that degree is another."

"You don't have to figure it out today, no," Johnson says. "In fact, if you thought you had, I'd tell you to give it a few weeks and see if it still sounded good. It'll take a little time to get all your identification set up and get your high school diplomas. Most jobs, it won't even matter what your major was, or whether you know anything from any specific class, so like I said, you've probably got enough general knowledge that nobody'll be able to tell the difference. If you want to do something that does require stuff beyond that, we'll figure it out, but not today."

"And you will know things," Lardo chimes in. "That body and brain have skills built in, you just have to figure out what they are. If I'd been starting from scratch with my art, I wouldn't be nearly this good. I got a body with the equivalent of a decade of practice in my muscle memory. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah, don't stress about it too much just yet," Johnson says. "Okay, here's the part everyone hates: Massachusetts, unfortunately, does not yet have a third gender option on their state IDs, nor do either Quebec or Georgia have one for birth certificates. Canada does allow it on passports, but otherwise, you two are going to have to pick a side, at least for now, for this purpose. Obviously tons of nonbinary people have male or female on their identification, mostly what they were identified as at birth but not always. Just because you check M or F for this stuff doesn't mean you can't still use they/them, or that you can't change it later. But you do have to pick one for now."

"Uh, well, I'll just go ahead and put male," Bitty says, looking nervous but not unsure. "The thing is, I've spent most of my life around humans, and I've been assigned to the United States for a century now, so I have a pretty good handle on modern gender norms and everything. So let's be honest, I know exactly how people are gonna read me."

"What does that mean?" Jack asks with a frown. "Besides just, you have a penis so they'll think you're male?"

"I've had this body for nearly twenty-four hours," Bitty says. "And trust me, that's long enough for me to know that people won't just see me and think 'male,' they'll see me and specifically think 'slightly effeminate gay man.' And that might very well be who I am. I don't know on the gay part yet, but I definitely think I'm closer to being a man than a woman."

"How the hell do you know all of that?" Jack asks, floored.

"Like I said, I've spent my whole life around humans," Bitty says. "It's still a little weird, don't get me wrong, but I have a general impression, at least. Enough that… yeah, I'm comfortable calling myself male right now."

"Okay, easy enough," Johnson says, marking it down on the paperwork he's got in front of him. "Jack?"

"Honestly, I don't care," Jack says. "I don't understand what part of me is supposed to _feel_ one way or the other, or even nonbinary. It just doesn't apply to me, and I don't want to deal with making it apply. So whatever is easiest, just do that."

"Given your biology," Johnson says, "it'll be _easiest_ to just say male. Like I said, we can put X on your Canadian passport, but I honestly don't know if having a different gender on your two passports will cause any problems. I should look into that, but you're the first dual citizen I've handled since they put that in place."

"Fine, just put male everywhere," Jack says. "I don't think I even care enough to want the nonbinary one. I want whatever is easiest and will make me have to think about it the least in the long run. I just… I honestly cannot care about this. Like, if you call me he or she, it doesn't sound or feel any weirder than they. It's all the same to me. I should probably just identify as male all the time. People are going to look at me and assume I'm a man, and I _cannot_ imagine ever caring enough to correct them."

"You don't have to identify as a man just because people will assume that," Lardo says, sounding hesitant.

"What part of 'I don't care' don't you understand?" Jack says, their skin prickling with irritation. They jump up from the couch, pacing angrily over to the window. "I cannot emphasize enough how little it matters to me, what pronouns anyone uses or what letter goes in that spot on my driver's license. If human society is stupid enough to force me to choose, and to make it easier to do things if I choose one over the others, I'll take that one. I think I care more about which running shoes I wind up with. If letting people call me _he_ and check off male on my forms means I don't have to think about it, sign me up."

"Okay," Lardo says with a shrug. "Honestly, I get it. We'll start using he for you, okay?"

"Whatever works," Jack says.

"I do want to point out, though," Lardo continues, "that it's a privilege for you to be able to feel that way."

Jack stares at her, baffled.

"Seriously. I feel the same way sometimes, like I just couldn't give less of a shit whether I'm a woman or a man or anything else, but in the end it doesn't really matter whether I care or not. Even when I shave my head, people see me as a tiny Vietnamese woman, and that's what they treat me as. You? You look like a giant, muscular, masculine white guy. You _move_ like one. Believe me, there is a lot of shit people are willing to say and do to me—or try to do to me—that they'd never try on you. I say I don't care about my gender and I'm still stuck with people saying and doing those things, reminding me constantly that I'm 'supposed to be' female. You say you don't care about your gender and you'll still have people getting out of your way, and you probably won't even notice them doing it. As a man, you'll be treated like a person instead of like your gender. Imagine if you'd fallen two hundred years ago, Jack. You think you don't give a shit? Trust me, nobody else would give a shit how many shits you gave; if you'd fallen into a body with a vagina they still wouldn't have let you vote."

"She's right," Johnson chimes in. Unlike Lardo, who is looking at Jack almost defiantly, daring him to argue, Johnson looks slightly apologetic. "You still don't have to care, but you settling for the easiest gender is—well, _easier_ than it would be for some people. Which isn't to say you shouldn't!"

"No, of course not," Lardo says. "I'm not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn't be. Just… don't take it for granted, okay? Be aware that the body you're in grants you some privileges in this society, and whether or not you _care_ if you're male, if you don't actively identify as something else you'll have full access to those privileges."

By the end of it, something inside Jack has deflated. "I understand," he says. "For the record, I still think gender is humanity's stupidest invention. Even stupider that so many of them don't think they invented it. But I get that these idiots have decided that if you are male and have a penis you're magically entitled to all the power in society, and that will include me. I still have no desire to think about this whole thing for one minute longer than I absolutely have to, and if being a man means people won't question it and won't make me think about it, that's what I want."

"Fair enough," Johnson says, marking things down on his papers. "Ok, we should be able to get you into all the relevant databases and get you the ID you need within a week or two." He opens a briefcase he's brought with him. "Since you can't even apply for a job until then, and you might not get one at all until we have at least diplomas, possibly degrees or some other certification, I've got some stuff to get you started. Phones and laptops, first off." He pulls out two phones, still in the boxes, and hands one to each of them, followed by two laptops. Jack sits back down as he accepts one. "They're not top-of-the-line or anything; the phones are a few models out of date and the laptops are refurbished, but they should last a while. The first six months of your phone bill is taken care of, then it's up to you." 

Next, Johnson pulls out three envelopes, handing one each to Jack and Bitty and the third to Lardo. "Lardo, since you and Shitty are taking care of room and board until these two get on their feet, there's something to help with that. And two thousand dollars for each of you to get you started. Trust me, even without paying rent, that won't go as far as you'd think, so don't blow it all."

Jack peers into the envelope to see a large stack of twenty dollar bills.

"Where is all this coming from?" Bitty asks, and Jack was wondering the same thing. The Council wouldn't just make this much money appear for fallen angels… would they?

"Ah, y'know, prophet stuff," Johnson says with a shrug. "We've got connections. The author didn't really feel like fleshing it out any more than that for the sake of this one little conversation."

"Author?" Jack asks. Does Johnson mean God? As far as Jack knows, whatever God might exist doesn't speak directly to the prophets any more than the angels speak directly to non-prophet mortals.

"All the prophets talk like that," Lardo says, patting Jack on the shoulder. "You get used to it."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Johnson says. "And don't worry, the money's not from anything illegal. Just take it and get yourselves some clothes, toiletries, stuff like that. You're lucky you're in a city with good public transportation, so you don't need to worry about a car or anything. We've been lobbying the Council to drop more of you guys near big cities just for that reason."

"You _lobby_ the Council?" Jack asks.

"How many fallen angels do you deal with, anyhow?" Bitty asks.

Johnson ignores Jack's question. "I usually get about one every couple of years, and I cover the eastern coast of North America. There are four major prophet bloodlines on the continent, some of them have more than one active prophet alive at a time. Over the entire world there are maybe a dozen or two new fallen angels a year."

Johnson leaves soon after that, leaving Lardo to help Jack and Bitty get their phones and computers set up. Jack is surprised to find that he knows how to type already, though he's not very good with the tiny phone keyboard. Bitty's thumbs, on the other hand, seem to fly across his screen. They spend most of the rest of the afternoon reading news (Jack) or gossip (Bitty) sites, getting up to date on current human events.

"The last scrolls I archived were a few years ago, before I started work on my latest room," Jack says at one point. "I can't believe this country went from Obama and legalizing same-sex marriage to… this."

"Yeah," Lardo says with a sigh. "Tell me about it. But you know human history probably better than I do—you know the pendulum always swings. Just have to keep pushing the fulcrum forward a little so it never gets quite as far back as it did the last time."

"I'm not sure they did," Jack mutters as he scrolls through articles about refugees being put in concentration camps and lawmakers refusing to do anything about climate change. This is the humanity he's now a part of. He's read of wars and atrocities, but they were always someone else's problem—things happening on a faraway planet to faraway people he would never meet. Now he has to deal with the fact that if a war breaks out, or climate change destroys the eastern seaboard, he will have to experience that firsthand.

What the _fuck_ does the Council think he can learn from _this?_

"How much would be a reasonable amount of my two thousand dollars to spend on music?" Bitty asks ten minutes later. "I need some of these albums on my phone."

"Eh, Shitty and I have a premium Spotify membership. I'll give you our login. You can pay for a month or two later on," Lardo says, taking Bitty's phone to, Jack assumes, use a Spotify to put music on it.

"Music?" Jack asks. He cranes his neck to look over Bitty's shoulder at his laptop. "How can you care about pop music when this country is literally falling apart at the seams and now we're stuck here? Have you even read the news?"

" _Jack Zimmermann_ ," Bitty replies acidly. "I will remind you that I have spent every _day_ watching this country fall apart. The little girl I saved that landed me here was going to die because her family couldn't afford the medication she needed, because health care here is a nightmare where insurance company profits overrule all common sense. And yet people still watch movies and go to concerts and fall in love. We're human now, these things are _important_."

"He's right," Lardo says, still messing with Bitty's phone. "I get that this is all new to you and it's a shock, Jack. But your puny human brain can only take so much tragedy before you get what they call compassion fatigue and you stop caring. You've gotta have good things in your life, too, to keep you going if you want to fight against the bad things."

"Well, my puny human brain has only been dealing with all this stuff for a day; I doubt it's going to get _fatigued_ anytime soon," Jack grumbles.

By the time Shitty gets home, Jack isn't so sure. He may not be experiencing compassion fatigue yet, but he's definitely overwhelmed. There are so many problems, and he doesn't even know which ones he's equipped to help solve. If he's here to _learn something_ , it probably has something to do with proving that he can do a better job of serving and honoring humanity than he's been doing. Maybe if he comes face-to-face with humanity's suffering and helps to alleviate it, he'll be inspired in his work; he'll make grander creations.

But he has to put the laptop aside for the moment, because it's time for them to go clothes shopping so that they actually have something to wear tomorrow.

They go to a store called Target, which Lardo says has cheap basic clothing. Jack grabs some shirts that seem to fit. He has more trouble with pants, since apparently his bottom is larger than is normal for a man with his build. Everyone agrees that he can't wear _only_ track pants, so when he finds one style of jeans that fits him he throws three pairs of them in the cart.

He's waiting for Bitty to finish trying on something—he's far more concerned with his clothes actually being "stylish" than Jack, which isn't hard since Jack is not concerned about that at all—when he sees something a couple of racks over.

He grabs it and comes back over to where Lardo and Shitty are standing with the cart, debating whether Shitty really needs yet another pair of novelty socks.

"I'm going to try this on," Jack says as he passes them on the way into the fitting room. The way they freeze when they look at it makes him stop. "What?"

"I'm not saying don't buy it," Lardo says slowly. "But I just gotta check—you know that's considered women's clothing, right? And if you wear it in public, people might give you shit for it?"

Jack looks down at the black skirt and sighs. "Yes, I know that in this stupid culture clothing is one more thing that's gender-coded, and since women are considered inferior to men I'll be seen as weak or not manly if I wear a skirt in public. It's a good thing I've already explained to you how little I give a shit about anything gender-related, including other people's opinions of mine. Oh no, the person who has no investment in being a man might not be seen as manly."

"It can be more than just not being _seen_ as manly," Shitty says. "Of course, a guy like you? Probably nobody's gonna try to beat you up over it, and if they do they'll regret it. Bitty, not so much—even here in Boston, it might be a risk in some parts of town. You, though… Probably okay."

Lardo raises an eyebrow. "Once again, you're very lucky that you can play fast and loose with your gender without worse consequences."

"Well, excuse me while I go take advantage of that," Jack says, and disappears into the fitting room with the skirt.

It's got an elastic waist that fits snugly, but then is loose and flowing below that. His ass could be twice its current size and the skirt would still flow right over it. It's perfect. When he gets out of the fitting rooms he grabs another in blue and throws them both in the cart.

"Okay, where do I get running shoes?" he asks.

"Not at Target," Lardo says. They check out and go to a shoe store next, where Jack talks Bitty into buying some running shoes as well ("Well, I suppose if I get some exercise I don't have to watch what I eat…") and Bitty fails to talk Jack out of buying bright yellow running shoes that are on clearance ("Why would I pay $20 more for the same shoes in black?").

—

When Jack wakes up the next day, he feels more focused than he has since he blacked out in Heaven. He goes for a run, eats a high-protein breakfast, and then sits down to start doing research. Lardo and Shitty both leave for work, and for a little while Jack is left in peaceful silence.

Bitty drags himself out of bed two hours later to eat some sugary cereal. When Jack suggests he go for a run, too, he groans.

Once he's showered and dressed, he makes a few attempts to talk to Jack before accepting that Jack is not in the mood for conversation and disappearing behind his own laptop.

"I think I might walk to the grocery store to get ingredients for a pie," he says a half hour later, standing up and stretching as he puts his laptop aside. "It is a _beautiful_ day out, and I for one don't intend to waste it!" He gives Jack a look that clearly implies that Jack _does_ intend to waste it.

"I've already been outside," Jack points out. "I ran for half an hour before you even made it out of bed." All he gets in response is an eyeroll, but Bitty does, thankfully, leave.

Jack is alone for another hour and a half before Bitty is back, bustling around the kitchen and setting up his phone so he can play music from it on the counter.

"Do you have to play that music?" Jack asks. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Bitty gives him what he supposes passes for a glare. "I will not let one minute of my time on earth be dragged down because you're determined not to enjoy a minute of yours. Go take your computer to the bedroom and close the door if you don't like the music."

Jack does just that. He can still hear the music a little, but it's muffled enough that he can ignore it.

Things go on like this for the rest of the week. Jack finds that having a set routine in the morning helps calm his mind down so that he can focus on his research the rest of the day. Bitty, apparently, does not function the same way; while Jack gets up at 7am every day, Bitty rises anytime between 9 and 11. Some days he just grabs cereal for breakfast, while other days he makes something more substantial (though rarely any healthier). He does wind up going for a jog a couple of times, but Jack can see no pattern to how he chooses which day or what time to go.

For the most part, Jack tries to just ignore Bitty as much as possible. It's obvious that he doesn't care in the least about bettering himself or the world; he just wants to make and eat as much high-fat, high-sugar food as possible while listening to cheesy pop music. If Jack is here to learn, there's clearly nothing he'll learn from Bitty.

Jack knows enough about human social norms to know that staying in his room glued to his computer all of the time, emerging only to exercise and eat, would be seen as rude and unappreciative, so he does make an effort to socialize with Lardo and Shitty in the evenings. At the very least, they're less obnoxious than Bitty, and Jack even enjoys his conversations with them most of the time. 

Shitty, he quickly learns, is very physically affectionate, and Jack is surprised to find that he doesn't mind this and sometimes even likes it. He still sees sex as something irrelevant to him unless he, for some reason, someday decides to have children (though he's not sure why he would do that), but he is apparently not totally immune from the human need for touch. So Jack accepts Shitty's hugs easily. He doesn't even push him away when Shitty drapes himself over his lap the one time Jack watches television with everyone.

That weekend, he lets Lardo and Shitty talk him into seeing some of the city with them. Bitty is enraptured, exclaiming over sights and scents, stopping to listen to a street musician until even Shitty and Lardo have to tell him it's time to throw a dollar in the man's guitar case and move on.

Jack focuses on not acting annoyed to be out with the only people he knows instead of holed up with his computer and a protein shake, and on not admitting to himself that he maybe wishes, just a tiny bit, that he had a fraction of Bitty's exuberance.

The following week passes much like the first. Jack sticks to his morning regimen. Their Massachusetts drivers' licenses show up on Tuesday, Lardo's address printed on them. Jack immediately goes to sign up for a library card with it so that he has access to more research materials. By Friday, they also have birth certificates and Social Security cards.

Lardo comes home early on Friday, and while Bitty is busy with his music and baking in the kitchen, Jack sits down with her to show her some of what he's been researching.

"I've been looking into various monastic orders," he starts, only to have her hold up a hand to stop him immediately.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"I was an addict. I obviously need to learn discipline, and how to go without," he explains.

The look Lardo gives him is not the one of approval he'd been hoping for.

"It's possible that's what the Council wanted," she says slowly. "I know an angel who became a nun—she found one particular order that spoke to her, and she's learned a lot there. But Jack, you didn't become an addict because you were undisciplined. And what does that even mean, go without? Without what? You're already going without most of what makes heavenly life enjoyable. You've spent your entire existence without the things that make earthly life enjoyable, you know how to do that."

Jack clenches his teeth in frustration. "Even if those aren't the only things the Council wanted me to learn, this would be a chance for me to focus entirely on figuring out what they _do_ want from me, and then on learning those things. Not all the orders would be good for that kind of thing, of course, but some of these are devoted mostly to contemplation and studying."

"And do any of those _call_ to you?" she asks. "Have you found one that made you feel like, yes, _this_ is where I belong? _This_ is what I'm meant to do?"

"I don't _know_ what I'm meant to do!" he snaps. "That's the entire point, that going away to a secluded monastery to get rid of all outside distractions would give me a chance to actually figure that out!"

Lardo sighs, and now she looks less skeptical and more sad. "If you find a monastery that calls to you, by all means answer the call. But if you force yourself into a life of asceticism just because you think you should, all you'll learn is what it's like to be miserable."

"I'm already miserable!" He tries not to let his voice get too loud, so Bitty doesn't hear him and come out to see what the fuss is about, but it's hard. "I've spent millennia with exactly one purpose, and now I have _none_. I have _no idea_ what I'm supposed to be doing here! I'm stuck here in this stupid body that I have to take care of, with all these humans and their… their _etiquette_ and their _societal expectations_ and _gender norms_ and all this shit, and I don't even know _why_ I'm here or what I'm supposed to _do_ with the next fifty years or however long."

Lardo raises an eyebrow. "Yep. Welcome to humanity, kiddo."

Jack doesn't have a response to that, so he just glares at her.

"You've been here for what, two weeks? Nobody can figure their shit out in two weeks." Lardo looks at him thoughtfully. "What have you enjoyed the most?"

"I'm not here to enjoy myself."

"I'm only going to tell you one more time—this was _not_ meant as a punishment. You're here to live a human life, and yes, that does involve enjoying yourself every once in a while. So what have you enjoyed?"

Jack sighs, but thinks about it anyhow. "I like jogging in the mornings. It feels good, physically, and it's nice to be outside before it's too crowded or hot."

Lardo keeps looking at him for another minute, like she expects him to keep going. When he doesn't, she finally nods. "Okay, that's a start at least. You like being physically active, and you like being outdoors but only when there aren't too many people to deal with."

"So what, my purpose in life is to exercise a lot?" Jack snorts. "I'm sure there must be a monastery devoted to that."

"That's not what I said, and not what I was asking about, either," Lardo says. "You might never know your purpose in this life, Jack, and I think your first goal needs to be getting used to that idea. But you are going to have to find things to fill your time—and eventually, to make money. You can go off to a monastery if you decide that's really what you want to do, but very, very few humans are happier removing themselves from society than they are being a productive member of it. If you're lucky, you'll find a way to use the things you enjoy and are good at to do that, so you might as well start figuring out what _those_ things are now."

And with that, she pats him on the knee and stands up to go join Bitty in the kitchen, leaving Jack to sigh down at the notebook he's spent the past two weeks filling with information about different monasteries and orders.

He still thinks it's a good idea. Probably what he _should_ do.

But he _has_ only been here for two weeks. He probably shouldn't do something that requires such a huge commitment just yet. He won't get rid of his notes, just… put the idea on hold for a little while. Maybe he'll come back to it in a few months if he still hasn't figured out what he's here for.


	4. Chapter 4

A bell above the door sounds as Jack walks into the bookstore. He likes it immediately—it's on the small side, but not a single tiny, cramped room like a couple of used book stores he's been in. It smells like paper, but not dust. The bookcases are tall enough that even at his height, Jack can't see over them—which means no one can see him from the other side of the store.

He makes his way to the counter at the back of the shop, taking a few moments to wander through the stacks since he's a little early.

When he gets there, an employee with light brown skin, curly hair under a knit hat, and several piercings in each ear looks up with a smile.

"How can I help you?"

"Ah, hi," Jack says, immediately five times as awkward as he was before opening his mouth, "I'm here for a job interview?"

"Oh great, yeah!" The person sticks out their hand. "I'm Nursey, I'm the manager. My pronouns are they/them."

Jack shakes their hand. "I'm Jack. Zimmermann. And, uh." He's gotten used to people calling him a him, but in the six weeks he's been on earth, this is the first time anyone he doesn't know has even raised the issue of pronouns. He decides he should be honest with someone who's interviewing him for a job—especially since this person uses they/them, so clearly they're not interested in the gender binary, either. "I don't care what pronouns you use for me," he says with a small shrug.

Nursey freezes for a second, and their smile is suddenly less genuine, more polite. "Look," they say, "I'm just gonna be honest with you. If you're gonna make jokes about pronouns, I don't think working here is really for you. You feel me?"

Now it's Jack's turn to freeze, his eyes wide. "What? No! No, I—it's not a joke. I really don't care. I usually use he/him because it's—it's easier, not because I like it."

"Shit." Nursey runs a hand down their face, shaking their head. "I'm sorry, fam, I shouldn't be assuming, that's on me. Look, I totally get it—y'know, out in the world, going to buy groceries or whatnot, I just let people use he/him 'cause I don't always have the energy to educate everyone I meet, right? But hey, whether you end up working here or not, if you're more comfortable with they/them, that's totally chill. It doesn't even have to go past the front door of the store."

"No, it—" Jack shakes his head, tries to find the right words for this person who he knows is trying to be kind to him in a way that they probably wish more people would be kind to them. "What I mean is—I don't want to think about it, and if people just call me whatever comes to mind then I don't _have_ to think about it. If you correct yourself, it would just be—it'd be like waving it in my face, making me deal with it when I don't want to. So if they is what you automatically think of, that's great. If it's not, that's fine, too. If I come in here wearing a skirt and someone calls me she, that works." He sighs. "I should probably just say he/him so I don't have to explain all that."

Nursey is nodding by the end of Jack's little speech, looking thoughtful. "Chill. I think I get you. So look, Johnson's recommendation carries a lot of weight around here, and he sent me your resume and everything, so I just wanna ask you about a few things, okay?" Jack nods. "So, it looks like you worked at the library up in Montreal for a few years, shelving books—what were your duties there?"

Jack takes a deep breath and calls up the answers he worked out with the help of Lardo and Shitty. Johnson sent him a copy of the "resume" a couple of weeks ago so he could be prepared to talk about anything on it.

"Uh, like it says, mostly shelving the books. It was a big library, I mostly worked on the nonfiction levels."

"So you know the Dewey decimal system by heart?" Nursey breaks in with a smirk.

"Yeah, you could say that," Jack says. He happened to work on the room where Melvil Dewey's life and work is stored, so he actually is quite familiar with it. It's one of the reasons they went with library jobs on his resume. "I also had to, ah, help patrons find things."

"Looks like that's your only customer service experience?" Nursey asks, looking down at Jack's resume.

"Uh, yeah," Jack admits. "I've never worked at a store, but I doubt I'll have trouble learning the cash register. Helping people find the kind of book they're looking for, though, that I've done."

"So what do you like to read?" Nursey asks, leaning back a bit and grinning at Jack.

"History," Jack says automatically. "Mostly random, esoteric things."

"Yeah, says your degree is in history," Nursey notes. They chose a small college in Quebec for Jack's degree, somewhere nobody in Boston was too likely to know people from.

Jack nods. "It was more Canadian than American history, obviously," he says, "but I got enough of the basics there and now I usually read about the kind of stuff they didn't cover in my degree. I just finished a book about the Armenian genocide." It's true; it was on Shitty and Lardo's bookshelf. Jack truly does enjoy reading about things he hasn't run across in the Great Library—some of the rooms he's worked on contained historically significant events like the creation of the Dewey Decimal System, while others were just the story of a single family over the course of a century, people most humans will never hear of. He's proud to say that he's always given the latter as much attention as the former.

"Chill," Nursey says, nodding. "Honestly, most of us here—myself included—are more on the fiction and poetry side, y'know? So it wouldn't hurt to have someone who knows history and nonfiction a little better. Okay, this might sound like a weird question—" They pause, looking at Jack expectantly. After probably a beat too long, Jack realizes that Nursey is expecting some kind of confirmation that he's listening or something, so he nods. That seems to satisfy them. "When you were shelving library books, did you ever, like, make displays? Like, you take a bunch of books on a topic and set 'em up to look all nice so people'll take them?"

Jack's eyebrows fly up, and he opens his mouth, then pauses. "Yes," he says slowly. "You could, uh, say that. I, um… I designed rooms. That were meant to, um… to honor the books they contained…" Nursey looks confused, and Jack quickly leans more heavily on his accent. "Ah, it's… I'm not sure exactly how to explain it in English."

Nursey nods, still looking a little confused. "Entire rooms, huh?"

"Yes," Jack says, trying to think of examples that might not sound completely insane. "For example, I made a mural." He motions to a wall, trying to give an idea of the size, if the room he's thinking of were on a human scale. He also quickly realizes that there probably aren't any human books about the particular family that the room was devoted to, so he takes a stab at what might be a reasonable version. "It was about the pre-colonial history of what's now called Ghana. The Ashanti Empire. The mural showed the everyday lives of people at that time."

Nursey's eyes widen. "That's, uh. Wow, that's pretty specific. Your library had a whole room for that?"

"It was a very small room," Jack lies. "Especially devoted to displays like that. I would, uh, change it out. I also created a mosaic once, about peasants during the Black Plague."

Nursey wrinkles their nose. "Man. That had to be kind of a gross mosaic. But hey, it sounds like you've got some artistic chops there, huh? You got any photos of these?"

Jack shakes his head, trying not to show his slight panic on his face. "Not on me. And I'm not all that great, artistically." He has absolutely no idea if he has any artistic talent as a human. What if he does get hired, then immediately fired when he can't deliver a decent mural? "I mean, I made them, but they weren't exactly going in any museums."

"It's chill, we don't need murals," Nursey says, and Jack relaxes a little. "But if you can arrange a few books in the window, make a couple clever signs to go with them, that kind of thing. If you wanted to get creative, that's awesome, but not required."

"I can do that," Jack says, not at all sure he can do that. It doesn't sound hard, but he's not exactly confident in his ability to be _clever_ in human terms…

"So, uh, what are your future plans?" Nursey asks. There's something calculated about the way they look at Jack ask they ask it. "Are you planning to stay in Boston for a while? This is only part time, and I can't guarantee I'll be able to get you up to full time anytime soon. Do you have another job we'd need to schedule around, or are you looking for something full-time?"

Jack knows the answer to this one. He and Johnson are working on it right now. "I'm actually hoping to start my Master's degree in the next year or so," he says, perking up a little at the thought. "Become a real librarian. I'm only planning to apply to programs in Boston or online, so assuming I get in somewhere, I'll be here for at least a couple more years. Once I start, I'll need to schedule around classes, but I probably won't have time for more than part-time anyhow. And until then, part-time is fine and my schedule is wide open."

Nursey might look impressed, but Jack's not really sure.

"Chill. Sounds like a good fit." Nursey looks up at him with a shrug. "So, I mean, that's pretty much the job," they say. "I'm looking mostly for someone to unload the books as they come in, sort them, and shelve them, but you'd need to work the register sometimes, help the customers if they ask you questions while you're shelving, and maybe do some of those displays if that's your thing."

Jack nods. He's not exactly excited to deal with the public, but if it's not his main responsibility he can handle it. Organizing books, he's sure he can do.

Nursey's eyes flicker down, over Jack's body. "You don't look like you'd have any trouble unloading boxes of books off the truck. Can you lift that box over there?"

They point to a carton full of hardback books behind the counter. It doesn't look too difficult—Jack bought a few weights and has added them to his exercise regime. He easily hefts the box up to waist height and turns back to Nursey. "Where do you want them?"

Nursey grins. "You can leave 'em there. Yeah, doesn't look like that's an issue." They tap their pen against Jack's resume thoughtfully as Jack makes his way back around the counter. Jack hears the bell above the door announce a customer. He still can't see the door from where he is. "Look, I've got another interview lined up for later today, but I should be able to let you know in the next couple of days, okay? This the right number for you?" Jack glances at the phone number on the resume and nods. "Chill. Nice to meet you, Jack."

Jack shakes their hand once more. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me," he says, having had such manners driven into him by Shitty and Lardo while preparing for this interview.

As he leaves the store and heads for the subway station, he feels strangely unsettled. He doesn't know what's going to happen. He might have a job, he might not. He might get into a Master's program, he might not. He might become a librarian, he might not.

By the time he makes it back to Central Square, his stomach is in knots and his jaw is starting to ache from how hard he's clenching it. He winds his way through the lunch crowd on the sidewalks, walking as briskly as he can without running into anyone, hands clenched until he gets to Lardo's building.

Unfortunately, the only person home when he gets in is Bitty. He appears to have just finished baking some kind of pie—Jack can still smell it, so it must not have come out that long ago, but right now Bitty is curled up in front of the television with a slice. He grabs the remote and pauses whatever it is he's watching when Jack comes in.

"How'd it go?"

Jack's nostrils flare. "How do humans _deal_ with this?"

"With a job?" Bitty asks, eyes narrowed.

"I don't have a job yet!" Jack explodes, only feeling a little bad when Bitty flinches. "I might have one in a couple of days, who knows? I might start school in the spring, or maybe summer, or maybe next fall. Or maybe I'll spend the whole summer applying to every mediocre part-time job in the Boston area, not get into a Master's program, and wind up living off of Shitty and Lardo for the rest of this stupid, shitty human life! How do they deal with having no idea what's going to happen?"

Bitty is still squinting at him. "It's not like you know what's gonna happen up in Heaven," he points out. "Unless nobody told me the Bana'im are psychic, you've never known the future. Heck, you deal with the past!"

"I don't know the exact future," Jack says, "but it's never all _that_ different. I was created a Banah. I was created to build heaven, and I was assigned to the Great Library almost immediately. I've spent millennia knowing that today, I'm going to go work on building a room to hold human history, and tomorrow I'm going to work on it again, and when that room is done I'll move on to a new room. I never have to _wonder_ if there'll be another room. I've never had to think about what I would do if I couldn't work on the Great Library anymore. I can't predict the exact future, but there's a _stability_ in Heaven that just doesn't exist here."

Bitty raises an eyebrow. "Not for everyone. I've spent my life chasing humans around, never knowing what they're gonna do next, hoping I can intervene quick enough if they do something stupid before their time. Heaven itself doesn't change much, you're right, but some of us don't _only_ deal with Heaven."

"Well, I do!" Jack snaps. "Or I did. That's great for you, that you're used to this, but that doesn't help me! What am I supposed to _do_ if I don't get this job, and don't get the next one or the next one? What if they all see right through me and realize I don't actually have any of the experience I'm claiming to have?"

His breath is coming faster, and he clenches his teeth again to make it stop. It doesn't help. He looks away, stares down the hallway toward the bedrooms, his thoughts piling on top of each other until he's not even sure which thing he's worrying about.

"Hey, hey, hey." Bitty's voice sounds far away. "Jack, sit down and breathe, okay? Come here."

Jack allows himself to be manhandled into an armchair, only because he doesn't know what else to do.

"Breathe deep," Bitty tells him. "You're gonna pass out if you keep panting like that. Deep breaths."

Jack tries to comply, still looking anywhere but at Bitty.

"Now, look, if you don't get this job, you don't get this job," Bitty says firmly, sitting back down on the couch. "And maybe you won't get the next one, either. But eventually you and Johnson will find one that works for you. And you know you'll get into at least _one_ of those Master's programs you're applying to. That's hardly even a question."

Bitty's right, Jack knows that, but Bitty is also the _last_ person he wants advice from. It's not like Bitty worries about his future. He spends all his spare time baking or eating or going out to clubs and concerts. Jack's not even sure how he's going to squeeze a job into his busy schedule of hedonism.

"Well, I'm glad you're so confident that everything will work out," Jack says stiffly, getting up from the chair. "But take a look around, Bittiel. There are people with better college degrees than we've got who can't pay their rent. Even once I get that Master's, there's no guarantee I'll find a library job. Not every human gets a happy ending, and you and I have no better a chance at it than anyone else."

He stalks off to their bedroom before Bitty can reply, flops down on the bed and hopes Bitty doesn't try to follow. Thankfully, after a few seconds he can hear Bitty's program starting up again on the TV.

* * *

Jack only has to wait two days before Nursey calls back.

It's Saturday morning, and the other three are in the living room bickering about what movie they should go see that afternoon when he hangs up and comes back out from the bedroom, where he'd retreated for some quiet.

"I, uh. Got the job. At the bookstore," he says, frowning at the phone. In less than 48 hours he'd managed to convince himself there was no way he'd get it, so now it's throwing him off a bit that he _did_ get it.

There's a loud whoop, and Jack looks up just in time to brace himself as Shitty crashes into him. Somehow he winds up in a headlock, getting his hair noogied, and he's not sure how Shitty managed to make himself the one single human on the entire planet that Jack would put up with this shit from.

"Baby's first job!" Shitty crows as Jack struggles to free his head.

"It's my second job," he grunts as he finally slips out of Shitty's grip. "I've just been working the same one for the last several thousand years."

"It's different," Lardo says from the couch. "You get paid. Trust me, that's different."

Jack frowns as he holds Shitty at arm's length. "But we didn't _need_ money in Heaven," he points out.

"Exactly!" Lardo says. "In Heaven, you have everything you could ever need provided, and everyone does their job because it's what you were born to do. Now you'll be doing this job because you chose to apply there, and this person chose to hire you, you get to do whatever you want with the money, and you can up and quit whenever you want. I mean, barring the whole needing-the-money thing. But if you line up another job, you can quit. In Heaven, it's your life. It's your whole existence. Here… it's a job."

"Congrats, Jack," Bitty says with a quietly amused smile. He graciously does not say _I told you so_. Jack can't decide if that's nice or infuriating. "When do you start?"

"Monday. The store opens at nine, but I'm supposed to be there by eight to unload the first deliveries. Then I work 'til noon."

"Every day, Monday to Friday, or what?" Shitty asks.

"Sort of," Jack says. "Nursey says I'll be working five mornings a week, but I'll be rotating which days off I get with a couple other people who work mornings. They said we'll work out my first few weeks' schedule on Monday."

"Well, this calls for a celebration!" Shitty yells. Jack cringes a little, having thought that Shitty was past the loud part of his revelry, but the cringe is immediately interrupted by Shitty's slap on Jack's back. "Where to for lunch, my newly-employed friend? Anything you want!"

"Uh." Jack's eyes flicker from Shitty to the two on the couch and back.

Bitty rolls his eyes. "Oh, no, you're not pulling that 'food is fuel for my body and I don't care how anything tastes' act right now," he says. It grates against something in Jack's chest.

"It's not an act," he grumbles. "I don't care where we eat."

Bitty opens his mouth to retort, but before he can say anything Lardo cuts in. "That's cool. You get to pick the movie, then."

Jack raises an eyebrow, glancing at each of his three apartmentmates. Shitty and Bitty are clearly trying to arrange their faces into supportive smiles, though Bitty's is verging on a grimace. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure, and I'll kick their asses if they say anything different, so yeah, we're all sure," Lardo says matter-of-factly.

"We'll live through one documentary at The Brattle, brah," Shitty says, catching Jack's neck in the crook of his elbow.

* * *

When Bitty is hired as a server at an upscale restaurant a few days later, Jack tags along to get gourmet ice cream without complaint. He considers it repayment for Bitty not saying I told you so.

* * *

A few days after that, Jack is reading in the bedroom when Shitty sticks his head in.

"Hey, bro, Lards and I wanted to sit down for a talk with you and Bits about some stuff. Meet us in the kitchen?"

Jack nods, startled, and as Shitty slips back out, he gropes around the bedspread next to him for the bookmark he's sure he just put there. By the time he makes it to the kitchen, the other three are already seated around the table.

"So here's the deal," Lardo says, leaning forward with her hands clasped on the table. "The lease on this place is up at the end of the summer. Before you two dropped in, we were planning to look for something a little farther out, something with a bit of a yard—"

"A yard for a dog," Shitty cuts in, his smile slightly manic.

"—so we can _maybe_ think about getting a dog _someday_ without having to walk it all the time in the winter," Lardo continues. "But even with Shitty's lawyer money, it's gonna be a stretch to afford something like that by ourselves. We could manage, but it wouldn't be ideal. So basically, this can go one of two ways: If you two are sick of this communal living shit, you've got jobs now, with the money from Johnson we could probably scrape together deposits et cetera for your own apartments. I doubt either of you can afford to live without a roomie yet, but we could look into options."

" _Or_ ," Shitty takes over, clearly impatient to get to this part, "we could find a house big enough for all four of us—separate bedrooms for you two and everything—and _all_ move at the end of the summer!"

Bitty narrows his eyes just a little. "Are you two sure you'd be okay with that?" he asks.

Lardo looks at him seriously. "If I wanted you gone, I'd tell you."

Bitty looks a little startled, but Jack nods. He believes her.

"The truth is," she says, leaning back in her chair, "financially it would make sense for all of us. You two could start contributing a bit to rent, but you wouldn't have to blow all your savings on a new place, so you could stretch that money a little farther. We could afford to get a _way_ nicer place than we could with just us, probably closer to the T. But I totally get it if either of you is starting to itch for a little independence."

"Sounds good to me," Jack says. When Shitty had said they wanted to talk, he'd been expecting something a little more… dramatic? Serious? Definitely not something as simple as this. If Shitty and Lardo were kicking them out, that would be one thing, but just asking about moving to a bigger house that would benefit all of them? Obviously he's fine with that.

"I'd love to!" Bitty says. "Ooh, maybe we can find a place with a bigger kitchen…" He trails off, looking around as though he's already taking stock of exactly what improvements he's hoping to find.

"We may or may not have enough options to be picky," Lardo says. "Rentals go quick around here, a lot of places with September 1 move-ins are taken by now. We were already looking when you guys showed up, actually. But then we wanted to wait until we were sure we all got along and you two had jobs and everything before we committed to looking for a place all together."

"Well, let's find out what's still out there!" Shitty says, and opens his laptop. Bitty eagerly scoots his chair closer so he can look over Shitty's shoulder.

"Do you need me for this part?" Jack asks. Shitty and Bitty look at him a little oddly, but Lardo doesn't seem surprised.

"Don't you want some say in where you live for the next year?" Shitty asks incredulously.

"Don't you wanna see the photos?" Bitty asks.

Jack shrugs. "You know how much I can afford. You know I work in Porter, and I need to take the T to work unless we wind up walking distance from there. I don't really care beyond that."

Bitty heaves a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. "Jacquariel, you have _got_ to stop acting like your physical environment here on earth doesn't have any effect on you! We all know, deep down, you must have opinions, you just have to _admit_ to having them—"

"My _opinion_ ," Jack interrupts, glaring, "is that I need a place to live that I can afford and that's easy to get to work from." He stands up, ready to leave, then pauses. "Okay, I like wood floors, does that work? Is that enough of an opinion? It's aesthetic and everything."

"That's perfect," Lardo says, shooting the other two a look that Jack doesn't miss. "We'll narrow it down. But you do have to come tour the places with us."

"Fine," Jack says, and finally retreats back to the bedroom, grinding his teeth.

The truth is, he doesn't _want_ to think about things like floors and windows, staircases and sidewalks and crown moulding. Yes, he has opinions, of _course_ he has opinions. He's spent his entire existence creating such things, crafting them carefully out of the finest celestial building materials. Nothing in any earthly house could come close to even his dullest creation, and if he's forced to have _opinions_ about these places, none of those opinions will be high enough to satisfy the others. He'd rather be difficult by saying he doesn't care than go through all of that just to be accused of being overly picky at the end of it.

If he also doesn't particularly want to spend much time thinking about things that will only remind him of what he's left behind, that's his business.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning: Bitty talks briefly a couple of times about hooking up with random guys in this chapter. If you want more details before reading, leave a comment.

The one reason Jack is looking forward to moving into a larger place at the end of the summer is that it will make it easier for him to avoid Bitty.

As far as Jack is concerned, Bitty is a disgrace of an ex-angel. Yes, he's friendly and cheerful. But if he cares at all about humanity, he rarely shows it—all he seems to care about is indulgence. When he's at home, he's baking, eating, dancing along to pop music, or watching TV—if not two or three of those things at the same time. After work he's taken to going out to clubs as often as he can afford to, and when he comes home to their bedroom he smells like sweat and alcohol. Jack is always in bed by then, and thankfully is getting better at not waking up when Bitty comes in, but he'd much prefer it if Bitty could come home at all hours without bringing his scent into Jack's room at all.

The one blessing is that the clubbing keeps Bitty out of the house at night. So Jack goes to work in the mornings, Bitty goes to work in the late afternoon, and they really only see each other for a couple of hours in between most days, if that.

To fill the rest of his time—without resorting to picking up useless hobbies like food and dancing—Jack starts seeking out volunteer opportunities. Soon he's got weekly or twice weekly shifts lined up at two homeless shelters, a food bank, and a low-income daycare facility. All of the positions are administrative work; he's self-aware enough to know that it wouldn't be fair to inflict himself upon the actual people in need.

"Oh, Jack! I traded shifts with someone tonight, and I was thinking maybe I should check out the MFA or one of the other art museums. You wanna come?"

Jack looks up from the fruit bowl he was about to select an apple out of, startled. Avoiding Bitty has gotten even easier since he's started doing all the volunteer work; he's not sure either of them has spoken to the other in days.

"Ah, I can't," he finally says. He almost regrets that the one time Bitty wants to do something that might not be completely pointless, he's not available. But he can go to an art museum himself anytime. "I'm just here to grab a bite to eat, then I have to get to the food bank to sort donations."

"Oh, right," Bitty says, nodding. Disappointment flits across his face, but he covers it up quickly. "You sure are keeping busy these days!"

"So are you," Jack mutters as he grabs his apple.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Bitty says suspiciously. Jack glances over and sees his arms crossed defensively.

"Being busy's fine," Jack says, "but you fill your time with useless bullshit. We're angels, Bitty. You should be spending your time serving humanity."

Bitty rolls his eyes, looking more weary than angry. "Oh, I see, I see. I'm a terrible angel for being a human—or, excuse me, for letting myself _enjoy_ being a human. Newsflash, Jack: We're both terrible angels, given that _we're not angels right now_. This is our one chance to experience the joys earth has to offer through human senses! A hundred years from now, we'll both be back in Heaven and we'll both be back to serving and loving humanity twenty-four hours a day, but only one of us will have fond memories of what it was like to _be_ one of those humans and it won't be you."

" _One_ of us will know that they never stopped doing their duty, even cut off from heaven," Jack says loudly. "One of us won't have to deal with the shame of having given up on that to indulge in every base pleasure they could get their hands on."

"Every base—" Bitty throws his hands up. "I'm not out there having orgies and shooting up heroin! And even if I were, as long as I'm not harming anyone what business would it be of yours? Kinda rich, don't you think, for an angel who knows damn well that's not how things work to be preaching this kind of puritanical garbage!"

"That's not how things work _for humans_ ," Jack says. "If they want to focus on pleasure, fine, that's fine. It's in their nature. As long as they don't hurt anyone while they're doing it, I won't judge them. You and I are _different_. We don't need all of that—"

"We do now! We have human brains, Jack, and human needs."

" _You_ ," Jack spits, "have human _desires_. You're lying to yourself if you think you _need_ to get drunk and dance all night, or eat pie every day."

"And _you're_ lying to yourself if you think you can really get through fifty years in that body without giving in to a single one of those human desires. Maybe you don't want any of the same experiences I do, but believe me, Jack, eventually you will want to do something besides hard work and pure altruism."

"I'm going to be late," Jack grumbles, and turns on his heel to stalk out of the kitchen. He takes the apple with him to eat on the way to the food bank.

It's not like he intends to ignore every desire his body has forever. He already doesn't. He's eating this apple, isn't he? Sure, it's healthy, but he knows he likes apples more than most of the other fruits and vegetables he's tried. So he's eating an apple because he wants an apple, and it tastes good. He's enjoying it. Just like he enjoys jogging in the morning. It feels good. He just doesn't need—or want—the kind of _excess_ Bitty indulges in daily. The fatty, sugary foods, the loud music, the intoxication.

And surely Bitty is taking it to an extreme. No human needs that much indulgence. And Bitty's a _waiter_ , for christ's sake; he's barely contributing to society at all and he _should_ be ashamed of that, even if he's not actively hurting anyone, either.

* * *

Working in a bookstore isn't exactly a high, noble calling, either, but Jack enjoys it well enough. It pays what he needs for the moment, and selling books is certainly better than selling the useless trinkets most stores are filled with. Being an actual librarian will be better, working somewhere that's not peddling knowledge for profit, but this is certainly better than most jobs he could have found under the circumstances.

He gets there early, an hour before the store opens. Most days it's just him, Nursey, and Dex, the other stocker/shelver. Jack isn't quite sure about the nature of Nursey and Dex's relationship. They bicker constantly, but once when Dex was sitting at a table in the back eating his lunch, Nursey sat down beside him and laid their head on his shoulder and he didn't seem to mind at all. It's none of Jack's business, though, and not his place to ask about it.

Jack and Dex unload any shipments of books that come in, sort them into bins in the back according to genre or topic, then once that's done for the day they each take a bin and start shelving the books in it. Jack enjoys the rhythm of it—a bit of physical labor to get him going, then shelving the books is almost meditative. He can let the rest of his mind go blank as he alphabetizes his cart and slips each book into its place. On the days Dex isn't there, a short, loud girl named Ford takes his place, though she tends to spend more time on the register than sorting or shelving books.

Dex is grumpy, but he's miles less awkward with customers than Jack. Everyone who works there is miles less awkward than Jack, and they all seem to realize it quickly. If a customer asks Jack a question, he doesn't direct them to someone else—it's part of his job, after all. He tries to help them as best he can, but more often than not, one of the other employees quickly appears at his side, offering assistance. He supposes he should feel offended, but he's usually just relieved. He can handle a quick "the computer science section is over there" or "yes, fantasy and sci fi are shelved together," but when someone starts describing their friend/aunt/coworker and asking for recommendations, or explains that they're looking for a book they saw once last year that was about some kind of magic "and the cover was blue," he flounders. Thankfully, the other employees don't seem to hold it against him.

* * *

"It's not like I don't want to, ever."

Bitty has his legs drawn up onto the kitchen chair in front of him, his sweatshirt pulled over his knees. He and Lardo are sitting at the table as Jack stumbles blearily into the room, heading straight for the coffee pot. It's one of his days off; he had a headache the first time he woke up so he'd turned off his alarm and let himself sleep in for once instead of going jogging. Even so, he's surprised to see Bitty, who had come to bed in the early hours of the morning yet again, up before him.

"You don't have to want to, ever," Lardo says. "I told you, lots of fallen angels are ace."

"But I'm not!" Bitty exclaims. Jack glances at him from where he's pouring his coffee, surprised. "I've known that for… well, for a while now. And I've wanted to know what human sex feels like for… for _centuries_ , at least. If I'm going to live here for a few decades, I would like to have a lot of sex in that time, quite honestly."

"It is pretty fun, bro," Lardo says, and takes a sip of her coffee.

Jack decides that the best thing he can do is pretend he hasn't heard any of this and shuffle himself and his coffee right back out into the living room. Sex isn't something he has any interest in, and he doubts he ever will. It shouldn't surprise him in the least that Bitty does, given—well, given everything Jack knows about him—but hearing him talk about it makes Jack uncomfortable in a way he wasn't expecting.

"I just—I'm not sure I'm quite ready to do that with random strangers in the bathroom of a club? Even if they're hot?"

"Dude, I'm going to wager that the majority of humans will never have sex—or want to have sex—with random strangers in a public bathroom. This is not something you need to freak out about. It's super, super normal, even if you're not ace and you want to have sex with someone eventually."

Unfortunately, Jack can still hear the conversation from the living room, especially since Bitty's voice has a slightly panicky shrillness to it.

"But like… I don't even think I'll _never_ want to do that! I dance with hot guys and it does turn me on, and when they suggest things like that it doesn't sound bad at all, I'm just… not quite comfortable enough with my human body to do things like that with anyone yet, y'know? And I feel weird because I can't exactly tell them 'oh sorry, new body, you know how it is.'"

"I totally get it. But you don't owe them an explanation, bro—even if you were dating, you wouldn't, but especially a random stranger at a club…"

The sound of the conversation _finally_ fades away once Jack has shut himself away in his and Bitty's bedroom.

* * *

August brings with it a heat wave, even in Massachusetts. Jack isn't thinking particularly hard when he pulls on a skirt instead of jeans; he just knows the air flow between his legs will be a relief in the bookstore's weak air conditioning.

Nursey barely bats an eye at it, and even Dex only frowns for a second before shrugging and ignoring it. Definitely not the strangest looks Jack has gotten when he's worn a skirt, and they don't bother him any more than any of the others do. He can't bring himself to really give a shit if humans think he's dressed oddly or not, for the most part.

Which is why what happens on his way home from work pisses him off so much.

He's just minding his own business, walking down the sidewalk, when a woman with a little boy looks at him in disgust as he approaches, even as the little boy smiles at him. He smiles back at the little boy, and she jerks him closer as Jack walks past, as though Jack might try to kidnap him or something.

As soon as he's past her, she makes no attempt to lower her voice as she says, "That man is very confused, Jacob. He's sick in the head. Don't _ever_ talk to men like that."

That's not what pisses Jack off, though.

Well, it does, because he doesn't appreciate people lying to their kids to perpetuate idiotic social structures. But it doesn't _personally_ offend him or anything.

What pisses him off is the way that it gnaws at the back of his head. He doesn't feel any worse about what he's wearing than he ever does, but for the first time he kind of feels like he _should_ feel bad about it. Which is… bullshit. It makes no sense, but it's a feeling he can't quite shake the whole way home.

Nobody's home when he gets there, and Jack isn't even sure if he's relieved or more annoyed. He bangs around in the kitchen a bit, putting together a quick lunch, and then heads out for a shift at one of the shelters.

He pauses as he grabs his keys to wonder if he should change out of the skirt, then growls at the idea that he even had that thought.

When he gets there, he nods to Alexei, the director, as he passes his office, and goes straight to the next office, where he spends most of his time stuffing envelopes for fundraisers or entering data on who slept there and when into the computer. There's a stack of newsletters waiting for him, and he settles into the familiar rhythm of folding them, fitting them into the envelope, sealing it, affixing a mailing label, tossing it in a bin for the mailman to pick up tomorrow.

He's been at it for about ten minutes when Alexei pokes his head in.

"Jack? You okay?"

Jack pauses. He's maybe been stuffing the envelopes a bit more forcefully than usual. He takes a breath before he turns to look at Alexei.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Alexei squints at him suspiciously. "You're sure?"

Jack pauses.

"Do you care that I wear a skirt sometimes?" he finally asks. It's not the first time he's worn one here, and nobody's even looked at him funny; but then, he doesn't interact with people very much.

Alexei raises his eyebrows, looking down at the skirt like he's just noticed it. "Is fine. We are not discriminating here. We have transgender residents."

"I'm—" Jack was about to say "not transgender" but he realizes suddenly that he has no idea if that word applies to him. As Shitty had explained it, it's about being a different gender than you were assigned at birth. Jack wasn't born. Nobody has ever assigned him a gender. If pressed, he supposes he would say that his gender, or lack thereof, is the same as it was in Heaven, so that probably means he's not trans. Overall. Basically. "I'm not trans. I just—I don't care about masculinity or—or _maleness_ or anything."

He really doesn't need to justify himself to Alexei, of all people, whom he sees briefly twice a week and has barely said more than hello to since his training. But the _incident_ is still sitting wrong in his gut, and it's like he _needs_ to assert himself somehow, show that he is what he is and be reassured that it's okay.

Which is so, so, _stupid_. He fucking _hates_ this.

"Okay," Alexei says easily, leaning against the door frame with his big, friendly smile and a good-natured shrug. "Skirt is fine, Jack. Just, you know. Not too short." He smirks, but it's as easygoing as everything else about him. "Keep it professional, yes?"

"Right."

"I let you get back to work," Alexei says, and heads back to his office.

Jack stares down at the newsletters for a moment. That should fix it, right? He has confirmation that he didn't do anything wrong.

It doesn't fix it, and that makes him angrier than ever.

* * *

When he gets back to the apartment, he can hear (and smell) Bitty baking in the kitchen, singing along to some pop song. Jack grits his teeth. Bitty is the last person he wants to talk to right now. Bittiel, who knew he was male within a day of landing on earth, who doesn't have to deal with this bullshit because he somehow slipped right into a gender with no problem. Who is seemingly _incapable_ of shame—who never seemed particularly ashamed of what got him sent to earth, let alone his self-indulgent behavior since he's been here.

Jack stalks to the bedroom and doesn't think about coming out until he hears Lardo and Shitty come home and Bitty starts making noise about how he needs to leave for work soon. He emerges from the bedroom just as Bitty is rushing off to work.

Shitty and Lardo are on the couch in the living room, arguing over what to watch on Netflix. Jack drops into the armchair nearby.

"I need to talk to you," he says. Lardo and Shitty both freeze.

"Did we do something, bro?" Shitty asks. "Did we wake you up last night, because—"

"No, no," Jack says, a little too loudly maybe because he doesn't particularly want to know what they were doing last night that could potentially have woken him up. "Something… happened."

They both visibly relax, though their expressions melt from startled to concerned.

"What's up?" Lardo asks. She'd been curled up against Shitty, but now she shifts so that her body is pointed at Jack, giving him all her attention. Lardo's really good at being a human; Jack needs to pay more attention to how she does things.

"This lady on the street said some stupid shit. Pulled her kid away like I had leprosy and told him never to talk to men in skirts or something." Shitty opens his mouth, but before he can go into whatever tirade he has planned, Jack goes on, "But that's not—that's not the part I wanted to talk to you guys about."

Shitty immediately shuts up. Jack appreciates that about him. He talks too much, but if he's clearly about to go over a line he respects that.

"The _problem_ ," Jack says, his voice tending toward a frustrated growl, "is that I'm still—not upset about what happened, exactly. But she—she made me feel _ashamed_. Which makes no fucking sense, and _that's_ what I'm still pissed about. I _know_ I did nothing wrong. I _know_ it's not wrong for me to wear a skirt. I _know_ it's bullshit and her kid should learn that. _She_ should learn that. So why the fuck do I still have this… this shadow in the back of my head? This _shame_?"

"Feelings aren't always rational, brah," Shitty says. Then he stops and squints down at Lardo. "Do angels feel shame? You said they don't feel anger."

"Yes," Jack replies, knowing he sounds a little testy. "I was— _am_ —deeply ashamed of what I did to wind up here. But that was different. I knew that what I'd done was wrong. I actually _did_ something shameful."

Lardo motions to Jack as she looks up at Shitty. "Yeah, it's basically like that. It's… a lot more logical than it is for humans. I mean, an angel can be ashamed of things that aren't _objectively_ wrong—" She throws a raised-eyebrow glance at Jack as she says it. He's not sure what that means. "—if _they_ believe they've done something wrong. But angel social order is so much clearer and neater than it is for humans. There's no point in feeling shame if you don't think you've done anything wrong, so we don't."

Shitty seems to be thinking that over, so Jack is quiet for a moment to let him.

"Right," he finally says. "Angels didn't evolve, right? You were just… created or whatever?" Lardo and Jack both nod. "So their behavior, their emotions, everything—none of it's a response to evolutionary pressures. It's just…"

"What God or… _whatever_ thought would be most useful to us," Lardo finishes for him.

Shitty shakes his head. "I am still not over the fact that even angels don't know if there's a God. But that's a different discussion. Look, _humans_ —" He leans forward in his seat, ready to give a lecture, and this time Jack is eager to listen. "—we _evolved_ to be a social species, right? So our emotions and everything, it's the result of millions and millions of years of some things working well and surviving, and other things not working so well and dying off. Which means what's left doesn't always make _sense_ , it's just what worked best to get us here, right? Shame is a social emotion. You can't feel shame unless you feel like _other people_ would judge you for something."

"That seems the same as angels," Jack says.

"But you guys were created to just _know_ right from wrong, right? Or at least, you were created to decide for yourselves. You don't depend on other angels, so much, to _teach_ you right from wrong, or decide for you."

"Not as much as humans," Jack concedes. "A little, maybe."

"But the survival of your species has never depended on it," Shitty points out. Jack nods. "So for you guys, when you're ashamed you're comparing it to that internal clock, see? It's not as social as it is for humans. All that matters is what you think. When a human feels shame, they feel shame because someone _taught them_ that the thing is shameful. Shame evolved to keep us in line with societal norms, which in a lot of cases is a good thing, when it comes to norms like not killing people or not peeing in the street. But it means that in cases like this, the fact that _someone else_ thinks it's shameful can kind of… override that internal logic you're used to depending on. Because that's what human shame is _for_. It's there to make sure you're paying attention to what other humans think and trying to conform to their standards. Am I making any sense at all?"

"I think so," Jack says quietly. The sinking feeling in his gut is just getting deeper. "So I _should_ be ashamed?"

It's Lardo who answers, waving her hands as if to stop him. "No, no! You're totally right, you've got zero to be ashamed of, Jack. Shitty's just saying that it's _natural_ to feel it when you know you shouldn't. Trust me, anyone who goes against what society says—especially when it comes to shit like gender or sexuality—is gonna get a lot of people trying to shame them for it. And it's _normal_ to internalize a little bit of that. You can't help it, you're human. But you also have to learn to let go of it when you know it shouldn't be there."

"Sounds easier said than done," Jack grumbles.

"Let yourself be human," Lardo says. "Don't _also_ be ashamed of the fact that your brain is having a normal human reaction, or that shame spiral will get out of control fast."

Jack sighs. He's starting to learn to accept his human reactions to things, but it's still hard. He still has this gut feeling that he _shouldn't_ feel like this. "I'll try."

* * *

All four housemates manage to get the day off work for move-in day on September 1. They spend the week leading up to it packing up all of Shitty and Lardo's belongings, Jack and Bitty finding all sorts of things they hadn't even realized existed in the apartment with them.

"Do we really need this much ink for the printer?" Bitty asks as he empties the contents of a desk drawer into a box.

"Buying in bulk, baby," Shitty responds from where he and Jack are stacking books from one of the cases neatly into another box. "We don't need that much printer ink today, but we won't have to buy any for the next three years, for half the cost of buying it once a year."

Bitty shrugs and finishes piling up ink cartridges.

"I gotta admit," he says as he moves on to the next drawer, "not that you aren't a perfectly good roommate, Jack, but I won't mind getting my own space."

Jack snorts. "Me neither. Not sure why it matters to you, though—you never get woken up in the middle of the night by someone who reeks of cheap beer coming in."

"Hey, I try to clean up enough that I don't smell by the time I get into bed," Bitty says with a glare, "and at least _you_ don't have a roommate whose alarm goes off four full hours before you normally get up. Anyhow, it's more just a matter of having some privacy, y'know?"

Jack frowns, pausing in his packing. "Privacy? What do we need privacy for?" Shitty gives him a pitying sort of look, making him frown harder. Bitty, for some reason, blushes. Jack's eyes widen as he realizes. " _Oh_. You want privacy so you can have sex with people."

Shitty snorts as Bitty's eyes go wider than Jack's. "I—what? No! That is _not_ why I—and if it _were_ it would be none of your business—"

Jack rolls his eyes. "I don't _care_ if you have sex, Bittle. I'm not judging you."

"Well, that's a first," Bitty says acidly.

"I'm not!" Jack insists, annoyed. "I don't judge you for every little indulgence, just for the fact that you have so _many_ of them _constantly_ and you waste all your time on them instead of doing anything worthwhile—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Shitty breaks in.

"Well, luckily, _you_ don't get a vote," Bitty snaps. "And I don't _need_ my own bedroom to have sex, thank you very much, there are plenty of other places I can do that."

"Well, if you're only going to have sex in club bathrooms, what do you need privacy for?" Jack knows he sounds belligerent, but honestly he's just confused. It doesn't even matter, really; they're going to have their own bedrooms no matter what. It's just the principle of the thing, somehow.

"Whoa, not sounding all that non-judgy here," Shitty says, holding a hand out as though to stop Jack. Jack just rolls his eyes again.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh. "I promise I don't give a shit. I just don't _get it_."

"It's not yours to get or not get, Jack-o," Shitty says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Privacy is private. Nobody has to tell you why they need it."

"Exactly," Bitty says, throwing Jack a glare.

"'Sides, even if neither of you are jacking off yet, you might want to eventually," Shitty says with a shrug as he ducks down to go back to packing books into the box. Jack and Bitty are both left staring at him. "Even some ace people do. Or you might have wet dreams and shit. Trust me, two grown men who aren't fucking have a lot of reasons to not want to share a bedroom, much less a bed."

"Okay, let's just leave it at privacy," Jack mutters, focusing intently on pulling another book off the shelf.

"Let's do that," Bitty agrees.

* * *

To no one's surprise—or, at least, not to Jack's—the moment they're in the new house, Bitty starts filling his room and the kitchen with things specifically chosen to delight his senses. A velvety blanket over a down comforter with a pillowy mattress topper underneath it all, kitchen appliances in coordinating colors. Jack walks into the kitchen one morning before work and realizes that the curtains, dishtowels, and placemats all match.

Jack's bedroom, of course, is sensibly furnished. It's not like he makes himself sleep on the floor—he has a bed, and sheets, and pillows with pillowcases. He'll buy a blanket when it starts getting cold. He has a nightstand and bedside lamp, both of which he found at a thrift store. While Bitty wastes his time picking up extra shifts to pay for his new stand mixer, Jack has time to double his hours at the food bank.

He doesn't mention any of this to Bitty. He has enough sense to know that if they're going to continue living together for the foreseeable future, he needs to keep the peace, and if that means ignoring Bitty's life of indulgence, Jack can do that. He's polite when they do spend time together, even if he avoids doing so. When Bitty cooks healthy dinners for the whole house, he isn't unappreciative. He thanks him and helps clean up.

At one of these healthy dinners a few weeks after they've moved in, Shitty wraps up a story about the "douchecanoe" prosecutor he argued with at work today and then unexpectedly motions to Jack with his forkful of pork tenderloin.

"Jacky-boy, you've got like, what, four or five jobs, and you never talk about any of 'em! What's going on in your world, man?"

Jack blinks at him for a second, thankful that he has a mouthful of food to chew before he can answer. By the end of his bite, it's clear that neither Bitty or Lardo is going to step in and change the subject; in fact, they're both looking at him expectantly.

"Uh." He shrugs. "It's fine. They're all fine."

"Any interesting customers at the bookstore lately?" Lardo prompts.

"I've been avoiding customers when I can," Jack says honestly. "And," he continues, hoping to head off similar questions, "you know I just do office work at the volunteer places, I don't really deal with people. So I don't know if they've had anyone interesting come in lately, either."

"You gettin' along okay with your coworkers?" Shitty asks. "You must have to deal with some kind of human being at some point."

"They're fine," Jack says, shrugging again. "Nursey and Dex fight a lot, but I try to tune it out. It's calmer when Ford is working, except she sings showtunes really loudly whenever there aren't any customers. The people at the food bank and the shelters have enough to do without me bothering them; now that I know the routine, I just come in and do what I need to do, they don't talk to me unless they need something. The day care place has me answer the phones sometimes, but that's mostly just taking messages."

"You still doing okay with all that?" Lardo asks. "That extra shift at the food bank isn't burning you out, is it?"

Jack frowns. "Between everything I'm not even working fifty hours a week."

"a) You know full time is forty, right? For a reason?" Lardo says, giving him an unimpressed look. "b) It might be less than fifty, but you've got them spread out so you don't have a single day totally off from everything, and c) you've got a lot more transit time built in there than someone working one full-time job."

"Transit time isn't work, though," Jack insists. "It's down time. I read on the bus or train. And I don't need a whole day off every week with no commitments. What would I do?"

"Relax," Shitty says, at the same time Bitty raises his eyebrow and says, "Go to the art museum?"

"It's not like the MFA changes that much, I'll get there eventually," Jack says, feeling more defensive than ever. "I don't need a whole day for it, I just _happened_ to not be able to go the one time you went. And I relax plenty. If I had more time off I'd just feel guilty that I wasn't using it well."

Lardo grunts. "Suit yourself. Just remember that if you ever do need more time off, it doesn't make you a bad angel. It makes you a normal human."

Jack sighs and takes a pointed bite of his dinner, hoping everyone will take the hint.

* * *

Ever since what Jack thinks of as the skirt talk, Alexei has been more friendly when Jack comes in for his volunteer hours. He makes it a point to come say hi to Jack at some point, even if he doesn't catch him on his way in. Jack doesn't mind too much, except when it starts to get in the way of completing his tasks.

"You are always so serious," Alexei says one day. He's leaning on the table next to Jack, while Jack methodically stuffs more envelopes. This time it's invitations to a fundraising dinner. "What you do for fun, Jack?"

Jack pauses and glances at Alexei, annoyed. "I read," he says, trying to not sound defensive. "Watch documentaries."

"What is funnest thing you read this year?" Alexei asks with his usual wide grin. Jack rummages around in his head, trying to remember all the books he's read since coming to earth.

"Uh," he says, stalling for time. "I… I guess most of them aren't exactly what most people would think of as 'fun' reading, but… I enjoy them."

"That's good," Alexei says. "Enjoying is good. Not same as having fun, but good."

He leaves with one final pat to Jack's shoulder, before Jack can think of a response.

Jack can't stop ruminating while he finishes his job and heads home. He has had fun a few times. Mostly while just sitting around talking to his housemates, which isn't exactly a hobby you can list when someone asks what you "do for fun." And it's not like _fun_ is a physical need or anything. Yes, it's probably important for human mental health, but again, it's not like he's never had fun in the past few months. He just hasn't let it rule his life like some ex-angels he could name.

* * *

One Saturday, Jack gets home from the bookstore and doesn't have a volunteer shift lined up for the afternoon. He curls up in an armchair in the living room to read, and soon becomes aware of Lardo sitting quietly on the floor of the living room about five or six feet away, sketching away, occasionally looking up at him.

"Are you… drawing me?" he asks.

Lardo just nods. Jack goes back to reading.

About a half an hour later, Bitty wanders down the stairs, still in his pajamas, hair rumpled. There's something about seeing him like this that always throws Jack off. He wants to smooth down the unruly hair, and he's not sure why.

"You're up later than usual," Lardo says without looking up from her sketchpad. "It's past noon, bro."

"Mmmmm," he says. His smile is nearly a smirk, like he's got a secret. "Guess I really wore myself out last night."

Lardo's head jerks up, one eyebrow raised as she studies him. He plops down on the couch, his smirk morphing into a grin.

"What does _that_ mean?" Lardo asks. Jack tries to go back to his book.

"Well," Bitty says, drawing it out a little, clearly enjoying this. "I might have been dancing with a very cute boy last night, and that very cute boy might have been interested in doing more than just dancing, and I just _might_ have agreed."

"Gonna need more deets than that, bro," Lardo says.

Jack decidedly does _not_ need more deets than that, but he knows if he leaves the room now it'll look judgmental. He's not judging Bittle, he just doesn't need to hear about it. He really couldn't care less what Bittle is doing with how many cute boys. It's just not his business. It's not like he and Bittle are even that close.

"It wasn't all that big a deal, really," Bitty says. "We didn't even make it to the bathroom, just found a real dark corner and got our hands down each other's pants."

Jack glances over to see Lardo's eyebrows shoot up. He looks back down at his book without looking at Bitty.

"So how was it?"

"I mean, it felt good, obviously. Felt great. A little awkward having to go clean up afterward. But yeah. It was… it was good. I'll definitely be trying that again sometime."

"A handjob's not so risky," Lardo says in her _I'm your mom as far as learning to be human goes_ voice, "but you know if you do anything else you need to be safe, right? Do you have condoms?"

Jack really does not need to know if Bitty has condoms.

"I've got some in my room. I guess I should bring some of those with me next time, huh?"

"If there's any chance you'll need 'em. Better safe than sorry. And if you go home with a guy, text me and I'll make sure you're alive in the morning."

Bittle _finally_ decides to wander off to the kitchen to get something to eat, and Jack breathes a sigh of relief.

He's not judging. He's not. Sexual urges are completely normal, as is acting on them. He hasn't had any himself, but if he did he would probably… okay, he absolutely would not satisfy them in the way Bitty does, but that doesn't mean there's anything _wrong_ with it.

Jack knows this.

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" Lardo murmurs from the floor, where she's gone back to drawing Jack. She's sitting closer now, so she doesn't have to speak loudly enough that Bitty will hear. "Sex stuff."

"I—" Jack stops, not sure what he was even planning to say. "It's like the shame," he finally says. "I know, intellectually, that there's nothing wrong with it. I don't care if I hear about it from other people. But when he talks about it… I just don't like it."

"Huh," is all Lardo says, eyes on her paper.

"Probably because it's just more of his whole…" Jack waves a hand in Bitty's general direction. "I don't disapprove of any one thing he does, there's just so much of it."

Lardo looks at him for a moment—not looking at him to draw him, looking at him like she's trying to see inside his head—then goes back to drawing without saying anything.

She does not point out that Jack doesn't respond this way to Bittle's baking, or the way he furnishes his room, or the many other sensory pleasures he indulges in. But even without her saying it, Jack squirms as he realizes it's true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost through the angsty parts! Jack will be turning a corner real soon now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included links to some of the images of angels Jack refers to - they're not necessarily the exact images he'd be using, just examples of what those types of angels look like in art.

It creeps up on Jack slowly. One afternoon, he gets home from his shift at one of the shelters to an empty house, which is fine. He remembers that Lardo has a gallery opening this evening, and Shitty was planning on going straight there from work, so they won't be back until late. Bitty is gone already, so he won't be home until late, either.

Usually, Jack relishes the quiet, but by about seven o'clock it's starting to unnerve him. He can't concentrate on the book he's reading. He goes for a walk to clear his head, and it seems to work—but as soon as he walks through the front door the emptiness seems to drag him back down. He finally gives up on the book and turns on a documentary instead, so at least there's noise.

Even when he's not alone, he starts to feel an itch under his skin when he has too much down time. He goes to work, he goes to his many volunteer shifts, he comes home, he eats, he jogs, he reads. He allows Shitty to drag him somewhere exactly once a week. It's not quite enough to fill all of his time, and when his time isn't filled, what starts as an itch slowly grows. It widens and deepens inside of him until he can't ignore it. Sometimes he even feels it when he's working, like he's not doing the _right_ thing.

He signs up for some volunteer work he can do online, at home, so he doesn't have to add more travel time to his day. It fills more of his time, but it doesn't fill the right hole inside him.

* * *

Jack is about to pull the bin of cookbooks off the shelf when Nursey puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, before you start shelving those, I wanted to talk to you about some window displays?"

"Okay?" Jack tries not to sound as wary as he feels. He's still not confident he can do anything remotely like what he did in Heaven here on earth.

"We've having a sale on kids' books the first week of November," Nursey continues. "I've got a pile of new ones that have come out in the past month or two for us to feature out there, along with maybe a few of the toys and games? More for decoration, it's not like we carry all that many." Jack nods. "It doesn't have to be anything fancy, honestly. We've got some fabric you can, like, drape over a couple boxes and scatter the books and stuff over them, put up a sign about the sale."

"Okay," Jack says. "Sounds easy."

"Chill," Nursey says. "So we'll keep that up for like a month. But then, going into December, I'd like something that might take a little more creativity. Obviously, we can't ignore Christmas shoppers, because, like, we're a business, you feel? We need that sweet Santa money. But I don't want to do a straight-up Christmas display and alienate everyone else. I mean, I'm Muslim, I couldn't give two shits about Christmas, and honestly I get a little sick of pine trees and ornaments and cheesy music everywhere I go for a month. So I want to do a display that, like, _hints_ at Christmas? Like, the Christians will see it and assume it's for them, but that's actually more inclusive than that. And not just, like, snowflakes and snowmen."

Jack frowns as he listens to Nursey's requirements. "So something that includes Christianity but just as one religion alongside all the others?"

"I mean, it doesn't have to have anything to do with religion at all," Nursey says. "Just something that works in some kind of, I dunno, Christmas-adjacent imagery but that everyone else can look at and not feel like Christmas is about to swallow them. And that features a bunch of our books, obviously." Jack nods thoughtfully and Nursey pats him on the shoulder. "Anyhow, I'll give you time today and tomorrow to do the kid display, but you start thinking about that next one. Brainstorm it a little and let me know what you come up with."

Once Nursey heads back to their office, Jack pulls out the cookbook bin and carries it out onto the store floor. He's glad Nursey's setting their expectations low for the first display, but it sounds like they want something a lot more complex for the second one. He reminds himself that he may not be sure he can deliver, but he doesn't know that he _can't_ deliver either.

* * *

It's November before he finally identifies that nagging feeling he's had, that hole inside: it's a feeling that there should be… _more_.

He doesn't know what _more_ even means. More what? He has a decent job and a plan in place to get a better one. What time and energy he doesn't have to use making money, he's giving to several very worthy organizations. He exercises and eats well, has a nice place to live. He socializes with his housemates and even enjoys it a lot of the time. What more can there _be?_

The very next day, he gets home from work and hears Bitty in the kitchen.

"I don't know, Lardo. I mean, you're right, I guess, I have been a little down, but I don't know what to do about it. I've been having so much fun since I got here, but it just… hasn't been enough, lately."

Jack's ears perk up as he unwraps himself from all his winter gear. 

"I mean, I still enjoy everything I'm doing. It just feels like there should be _more_ , y'know?"

Often when Jack gets home and hears Bitty's voice, he avoids it—but this time he heads toward the kitchen.

"And whenever I try something new—watch a new show, bake something new, go to a new club, that's even why I started reading those trashy romance novels you were laughing at—I always enjoy it, but it's never the right thing. Whatever I'm missing, I haven't found it yet."

Bitty and Lardo are sitting at the table, both with a mug in front of them. When Jack walks in, Bitty gives him a smile, though it's not very bright. "Hi, Jack. There's cocoa in the pot on the stove if you want some. Not much protein, but it's warm and tasty."

Jack glances into the pot, which he has to admit does smell good, and at the bag of marshmallows on the counter. He could use something warm. "Thanks, but I'll just have some tea," he says, and pulls a random herbal blend out of the cabinet.

While he's making his tea, Bitty and Lardo continue their conversation.

"How's everything at work?" Lardo asks.

"Oh, fine! I mean now and then you get an ornery customer, but overall I like it well enough."

"Have you hung out with any of your coworkers? Like, gone for a beer after you get off or anything?"

Bitty is quiet for a moment.

"No," he says slowly. "I guess they did invite me once or twice, but one of the times I was too exhausted, and the other time all I really wanted at the end of my shift was to dance with cute boys to loud music, but they were just going to a regular bar."

Jack refrains from snorting as he carries his tea over and sits at the table. Bitty looks surprised that he's joined them, but Lardo doesn't.

"You need meaning in your life, Bittle," he says with no preamble. "That's why nothing is enough. You feel empty, so you try a new TV show or a new cake recipe? You really think those things can give you a fulfilling life? You've spent so much time with humans, you should know better than that. We've been here for over six months, you've had your fun, now it's time to get it together. Stop focusing on what feels good and do something for humanity for once."

"Jack—" Lardo starts, a warning in her voice, but Bitty gets over his gobsmacked look and cuts in.

"Oh, and that's going so well for you, Mr. Ascetic?" Bitty snaps. "You're the picture of a happy, fulfilling life? You're miserable, and everyone knows it!"

"I'm not _miserable_ —"

"Don't give me that, you know you are, and you're proud of it. Look me in the eye and tell me you feel _fulfilled_ , Jack. Tell me you feel like you're living your life to the fullest. That you're looking forward to living exactly like this for the next fifty years and wouldn't change a thing."

Bitty stares at him in challenge. Jack meets his eye and opens him mouth to argue, but… he can't. The entire reason he came in here was because Bitty had been echoing his earlier thoughts.

"Okay, let's all take a deep breath," Lardo says. "I keep hoping some fallen angel or prophet will become a therapist, but so far no luck, so we need to have each other's backs about this shit, okay?"

Bitty and Jack both look down at their mugs. Jack does take a deep breath, followed by a sip of his unsweetened tea. It's a bit sour. Maybe he should start taking it with sugar, after all.

"Okay," Lardo says again, once they've both calmed down. "You're both having some problems, right?" They both nod. "That's fine. Six months is nothing, you're totally still in the adjustment period. This is normal. Bitty told me how he's feeling. Jack, I know you're not completely miserable—" She shoots Bitty a look at that. "—so why don't you tell us what you've been feeling?"

"Uh." Jack looks back down at his tea, feeling sheepish. "The same, actually. Like… there should be more. I care about the work that I do, I _like_ helping people, but I still feel… empty, for some reason. Not totally empty, but… there's a hole." He glances up at Bitty. "Whatever I'm missing, I haven't found it yet."

The way Bitty's face softens when Jack parrots his words… it helps, somehow. It's only one little pebble thrown into the hole, but at least it _fits_ in the hole. Unlike everything else.

When he looks over at Lardo, he finds her wearing a truly infuriating smirk. She snorts and shakes her head as she laughs to herself. Jack exchanges a baffled look with Bitty.

Their confusion is interrupted by the front door opening. They all automatically look toward the sound of Shitty coming in, even though they can't see the entryway from the kitchen. Jack can hear him stomping the snow (or, more likely, the sludge that used to be snow) off his shoes.

"Shits, you owe me ten bucks," Lardo yells. Bitty and Jack go back to exchanging confused looks.

Shitty finally appears in the kitchen doorway. "Why is that?"

"I told you I knew why they were sent down together," Lardo says, that infuriating smirk still firmly in place.

"What?" Bitty says. Jack just scowls at her. He's not sure he wants to hear her theory. He has steadfastly maintained that Bitty was sent down with him simply for the convenience of Jack bringing him to Lardo, nothing deeper.

"Yeah, yeah," Shitty says. "I knew you were right, I just made the bet 'cause you were so smug about it." He starts to join them at the table, but swerves at the last moment as though the pot on the stove has pulled him magnetically. "Oooh, cocoa! With marshmallows!" Lardo rolls her eyes, and they all wait for Shitty to get his cocoa. Jack stares at his tea, and when he looks up he realizes that he and Bitty both have their arms crossed protectively, Bitty wearing the same tight, defensive look he knows is on his own face.

"Now what on earth are you two on about?" Bitty asks once Shitty sits down.

"You really don't see it?" Lardo asks, eyebrows high. She looks back and forth between the two of them. "Guys. _Guys_."

Jack frowns over at Bitty. "Because… we were both going to have the same problem?"

"You're so fuckin' close, brah," Shitty says, cocoa in his mustache. " _So close_ to gettin' it."

"So… that… we… can… work together? Somehow?" Bitty says slowly, clearly grasping at straws.

"Warmer," Lardo says, looking highly amused.

Jack sighs loudly, but before he can demand an answer, Shitty apparently reaches the end of his limited patience.

"You're yin and yang, my dudes!" he bursts out. "Jack, what do you think Bitty has too much of?"

"Indulgence?"

"And what do you think he needs?"

"To contribute something to humanity?"

"Now Bitty." Shitty turns to the other ex-angel. "What do you think Jack has too much of?"

"He's… too serious," Bitty says. "Too focused on his own narrow view of helping people."

"And what does he need?"

Bitty looks at Jack warily. "To have some fun, mostly. Think about himself now and then."

They look at each other. Jack isn't quite sure he wants to admit that he's putting the pieces together. If he had to guess, he'd say Bitty is in the same state.

"So we're both right," he finally mutters once the silence has dragged on a little too long. "You're saying we're both right about each other."

"You're both _pretty_ right," Lardo amends. "More than that, though, you've both got an excess of what the other one needs."

Jack looks back down at his empty mug. He really doesn't want to think about himself as needing anything Bitty has, but… he's missing _something_. He can't deny that.

"Although there's one thing I think you're both missing," Lardo continues. She waits until they both look up before continuing. "Human connections. You need friends beyond the people who live in this house, guys. And not _just_ friends, either."

"Like, you think we should date?" Bitty asks.

"If you want," Shitty says. "And no, anonymous hookups don't count as dates. But what you guys really need is a social network. I mean, not the Facebook kind—but yeah, no, actually, kind of that. If either of you set up a Facebook page right now and friended every single person you know well enough that you'd say hi to them if you passed them on the street, how many would that be?"

Jack thinks. The three of them, the people he works with, a few people he's talked to once or twice while volunteering like Alexei… "Ten?"

"Maybe a dozen," Bitty says.

"Right," Shitty says. "Most people who, like, aren't the least bit famous or even that popular have hundreds of Facebook friends, easy. Extended family, tons of people they went to high school and college with, people from every place they've worked, friends through hobbies. Now, obviously, 90% of those aren't the kind of relationships that really matter on a day-to-day basis, but there's still this huge network of connections they've built up over two or three decades."

"Obviously, none of us is going to have that," Lardo picks up from him. "But you do need more than the handful of people you see every day. Even if you're not close to the people in that network, all those little connections add up. That's why I spent that year in Ghana, to get out of my little bubble. I'm not saying either of you should join the Peace Corps, but we do need to find ways for you to build that. Of course, you _also_ need a few more real friends."

Jack and Bitty just sit there for a moment, each of them giving the other wary glances now and then. It's clear that Bitty doesn't like the idea that he needs anything from Jack any more than Jack likes needing anything from Bitty, which makes Jack bristle. It's so _obvious_ what Bitty's problem is, whereas Jack has a hard time believing that his own problem could be solved by eating a few pies.

Bitty is probably thinking the same thing.

Maybe they both really are just too stubborn to admit the truth.

"You two have clearly been talking about this behind our backs," Jack points out with no venom, "so what's your plan for us?"

"First off, spend some time together," Lardo says. "You two are barely more than acquaintances who live together right now, which means that really, you each have exactly _two_ real friends on earth while there's a potential third one sitting there staring you in the face. Hang out, stay open to what the other one wants, and see what rubs off."

"Nobody's saying you need to go hook up with people in clubs, Jack," Shitty says. "In fact, nobody's saying you should ever set foot in a club—you'd probably hate 'em. You just need to spend some time thinking about what you _might_ enjoy and letting yourself enjoy it. And Bitty, nobody's saying you need to start volunteering at five homeless shelters. Just… spread the love, y'know? Take what brings you joy and use it to bring joy to others."

"And find friends," Jack says.

"One step at a time," Lardo replies. "I think if you guys start finding a little balance in your lives, that'll come easier."

He and Bitty stare at each other for a moment. Jack lets his arms uncross slowly. He takes a breath and tries to release all of the tension his defensiveness has created, and with it, the defensive instinct itself. Bitty seems to be doing the same.

"I guess there's no harm in trying it," Bitty says.

"I guess not," Jack agrees. "What are we going to… do together?"

"Well, to start with, you could help me make the pie I'm planning for dessert, then we can make dinner," Bitty says with a lopsided grin. "And then you can _eat the pie_."

Jack rolls his eyes. "Fine."

* * *

Much to Jack's annoyance, it turns out that he actually _enjoys_ baking.

It's soothing. There's a list of directions, and he follows the directions. He measures carefully, double-checks oven temperatures, and when Bitty gets impatient and almost doesn't let the eggs come up to room temperature, Jack insists that they do it exactly as the recipe says. There's a predictability to the process that Jack has missed since he was cast down.

He starts eating dessert. A small slice of pie, a single cookie. They do taste good. He still doesn't understand Bitty's desire to gorge himself on this sort of thing.

* * *

"Is it too weird?" Jack asks as Nursey looks over his plan. Lardo helped him with it—it turns out he really isn't much good at drawing on earth—but most of the images he wants to use are public domain, so he arranged them digitally and printed it out. "I know hu—people don't think of angels like that."

Nursey squints at him. "Fam, did you almost say _humans_ don't think of angels like that?"

Jack shrugs as his cheeks heat. He motions vaguely to his brain, thankful for the dozenth time that Nursey doesn't know French. "Translation problems."

Nursey raises an eyebrow and shakes their head, but seems to accept the explanation as they go back to examining the sketch. 

Jack's main worries aren't about customers hating it. He's not even that worried about the thin line he's walking, having to remember what humans do and don't know all the time—that he can probably handle. (If he can remember not to call them humans.)

His real nerves stem from the simple fact that he's not sure he's ready for this. For thinking so much about angels, for one, which will only remind him of what he left behind. The pain has dulled, but it's not gone yet.

He's also not sure he's ready to create. Period. The children's book display didn't count; it really was just a matter of throwing merchandise in the window in a way that looked vaguely balanced. This, though… this type of creation hits just this side of too close to home. Nursey certainly doesn't mean for him to be _honoring_ anything, but thinking of it like that is deeply ingrained. He's creating something to honor humans' conceptions of angels. That's what he's doing, and he can't pretend otherwise.

It's too soon. So why does it feel like he _needs_ to do this?

"Anyhow, it's chill, I like weird. This is great. You got a couple of the blue-eyed feathery type that pulls in all the church ladies but way more of stuff you don't see every day. What even _are_ some of these? Oh, hey, chill, I like how you worked in [Gabriel talking to Mary](https://truthbook.com/images/site_images/Bartolome_Esteban_Murillo_The_Annunciation_400.jpg) but put [Jibril talking to Muhammad](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/20/Mohammed_receiving_revelation_from_the_angel_Gabriel.jpg/220px-Mohammed_receiving_revelation_from_the_angel_Gabriel.jpg) right next to it." It's one of those strange circumstances where humans managed to get something almost right—the same Tarshish did appear to both of those people, but what they really said and why they were really there were quickly buried in the scramble to establish new religions. "But what's that one?"

They point to a being who looks… well, a bit more like Jacquariel than most of the angels. Alien and frightening to human eyes, with [too many limbs](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/33/Yama_on_buffalo.jpg/340px-Yama_on_buffalo.jpg) and, in some renderings, [too many eyes or faces](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d9/Yamantaka%2C_Fear-Striking_Vajra%2C_Lord_of_Death_on_a_water_buffalo%2C_Vajrayana_Buddhism.jpg/220px-Yamantaka%2C_Fear-Striking_Vajra%2C_Lord_of_Death_on_a_water_buffalo%2C_Vajrayana_Buddhism.jpg). It's not close enough for its look to have been based on the Bana'im, but it certainly looks nothing like the Guardian who, given its job, must have been its inspiration.

"Euh, that's Yama. A god of death in some religions; in others, like Sikhism, he's referred to more as an angel of death. _Angel_ really just means _messenger_ , so anything that can be seen as an intermediary, so to speak, between a God or gods and humans can be thought of as an angel." He bites down on the next sentence that presses at his lips— _At least, most of them are based on a human's interaction with some kind of angel at some point in history_.

Nursey raises their eyebrows. "Huh. I love that you've got this one here so big." He points to the [Ophan](https://img2.grunge.com/img/gallery/the-craziest-creatures-described-in-the-bible/ophanim-1564763993.jpg), a being made of many-eyed, fiery rings. Jack agrees that it's impressive, but can't exactly tell Nursey that he's pretty sure it was made up whole cloth. "That'll look badass. You got a list of books that would go with this?"

Jack hands therm the list. It's wide-ranging, but every one was in stock as of a couple of days ago—he checked. There are a handful of academic tomes, religious texts, and coffee table books full of (mostly whitewashed, modern-Christian-ized) images of angels, but mostly he focused on fiction from classics like _Dr. Faustus_ and _Paradise Lost_ to modern novels like _Good Omens_ and the Mortal Instruments series.

"It's hard to find fiction that doesn't focus on a Christian, or at best Judeo-Christian, view of angels," he admits. "At least, in English. Even harder to find anything that didn't originate in Europe or the Middle East." He motions vaguely to _Percy Jackson and the Olympans_.

"What's up with that?" Nursey asks. "I've read Percy Jackson, and I don't remember any angels."

"There were some beings in Greek mythology that, um… scholars consider to be the equivalent of angels. Again, anything that's an intermediary."

Nursey looks at the list a little incredulously, but eventually shrugs. "If you say so. You did a lot of research for this, didn't you?"

"I… took a class. In college. On comparative religion." Jack tries not to stammer too much. "Did a paper on angels."

"I almost want to put a Christmas tree in there just so we can put that thing on top," Nursey says, pointing to the Ophan again.

"Looks too much like a normal ornament," Jack says. "Maybe this one." He pulls up a few images of [seraphim](https://live.staticflickr.com/1728/42674418251_2af6eef6b6_b.jpg) that he has on his phone, but hadn't added to the display. Seraphim, along with Guardians, are definitely the angels that most closely resemble humans' conceptualizations. As an angel, Jacquariel hadn't given their appearance a second thought; had, in fact, thought them to be quite beautiful. As a human, Jack has a vague understanding of why they're considered unsettling.

Nursey points to one of the stranger images with a grin. "Chill, if I didn't think we'd tip the scale over to actively driving customers away, I'd tell you to print out two dozen of these and have those bad boys flying and swooping all over the place." They clap Jack on the shoulder and hand the papers back to him. "This is gonna be dope."

* * *

Bitty goes all out for Thanksgiving, and Jack, Lardo, and Shitty all pitch in. Shitty's mother and younger sister come for dinner, and the ex-angels take turns dodging questions about their own non-existent families for a couple of hours. Jack helps bake the _four_ desserts Bitty seems to think they need to feed six people, and he even relents and has a half a serving of each.

Bitty must take his small servings as a challenge, because before they've even finished off the leftover turkey, he announces that he's going to figure out Jack's culinary weak spot.

"You've got a sweet tooth in there somewhere," he says, squinting at Jack. "Maybe just one out of all those teeth, but it's there."

That was a few days ago, and today he's got Jack peeling and slicing apples for a pie. Jack has to admit, he does like apples.

"Here, use this mandoline I bought last week," Bitty says, pushing a small contraption in front of Jack. "You can make nice, consistent slices super easy."

He walks Jack through using the slicer, guiding his hands for the first few slices. It's not terribly difficult to use, Jack just has to make sure to use the guard so he doesn't slice his finger instead of the apple.

"Why are we slicing them so thin?" Jack asks. "I've seen pictures of apple pie, and it looks like there are big chunks."

"I tried it that way first," Bitty explains. "It takes a long time for them to cook all the way through, and the spices really can't penetrate that deep. These thin slices cook though quick, and they's basically apple-cinnamon all the way through. Trust me, these are better."

Jack nods and finishes his slicing. Given that reasoning, it sounds like larger chunks would probably retain more of the apple's nutritional value, but he keeps his mouth shut. He wonders if Bitty has even noticed what an admirable job he's done of not criticizing the health properties (or lack thereof) of the recipes they've made together.

When he's done with the slicing, he looks over to the bowl where Bitty has mixed the spices for the filling, along with what seems to Jack like a truly excessive amount of sugar. But he bites his tongue again and tips his cutting board full of apples into the bowl for Bitty to toss with his mix.

"Okay," he says as he finishes coating the apple slices, "you remember how to roll out a crust?"

"I think so?"

Bitty flashes him a smile. He's been smiling at Jack a lot more. It's nice.

"Okay, then, grab the first disc of dough out of the fridge and have at it."

Jack rolls the dough out into something vaguely resembling a circle, then drapes it over the rolling pin to transfer it to the pie tin just like Bitty showed him the last time they made a pie. He can't help the grin that spreads across his face when he gets it securely into the tin without it cracking.

"Excellent!" Bitty says, patting him on the arm. "Now, go ahead and roll out the other one while I fill this up. We're just gonna do a regular flat crust today, not sure you're quite ready for a lattice yet. Maybe next time."

"You're good at this," Jack says as he crimps the crusts closed just like Bitty showed him to.

"I hope so," Bitty says. "It'd be pretty sad if I'd spent as much time baking as I have in the past six months and was still no good at it."

"No, I mean—well, yeah, obviously baking, but I meant like… teaching me how to bake. You explain things really well."

"Oh," Bitty says, a little quieter. "Thanks. I guess I hadn't thought about that as something you could be good or bad at."

Jack finishes crimping the crust and levels an unimpressed look at Bitty. "Imagine me explaining how to do any of this."

Bitty winces. "Point taken. Well, thanks, Jack. Now let's get this in the oven."

"Have you thought about what we should do with you?" Jack asks once the pie is in the oven and the timer is set.

"I like this," Bitty says. "I mean, showing you how to bake. And if I'm good at it… I dunno, maybe I can do something with that, y'know?"

Jack has to admit he hadn't thought about that. He'd been assuming they would find somewhere for Bitty to volunteer, like he's doing… Maybe Bitty was on to something, about Jack's "narrow view of helping people."

"Maybe," he says. It's not a helpful reply, but he doesn't really have anything else to add.

"Now, c'mon." Bitty grabs Jack's arm and starts tugging him into the living room. "You promised you'd binge watch a show with me today. I've got a few picked out for you to choose from; I think you'll find at least one that you like."

"…I don't suppose they have any educational value?" Jack tries, even as he follows Bitty resignedly into the living room.

"Not in the least."

* * *

Jack nods at Alexei as he passes his office, as usual—then stops and takes a couple steps back, to the office door.

"Alexei?"

Alexei immediately sits straight up from where he'd been bent over his computer, a big smile on his face. "Hi! Hello! What's up, Jack?

"Er… You guys provide meals, right? You've got like a full kitchen here?"

"Yes!" Alexei says. "We're having dinner for residents staying overnight, breakfast the next morning, and during the day we give lunch for anyone who needs it, whether or not they're stay in shelter overnight."

"And you take volunteers for that? The cooking?"

"Yes, yes! We try to get groups for cooking, because it takes a lot of people to cook that many dinners. But of course we need all help we can get."

"Do you… serve dessert?" It's clearly not the follow-up question Alexei was expecting, and Jack feels a little silly even asking.

"Sometimes?" Alexei says, bemused. "Depends on group coming in to cook, usually. When possible, we ask them to bring ingredients for meal they are planning. Some of them even cook somewhere else and bring here to reheat, if they can't all come to shelter at once for whole cooking time."

"Huh." The wheels in Jack's head continue to turn. It sounds like what he's thinking of might work. "If someone could just commit to providing dessert on a regular basis—baked at home, say, and then brought in before dinner—would you be interested in that? Or is that not useful by itself?"

Alexei thinks for a moment. "Might be. We're in holiday season, everybody wants volunteer at holidays, we have groups signed up every dinner through end of January. But maybe not all are plan dessert. Why, you know someone who is wanting to do that?"

"Maybe," Jack says. "I'll talk to him and let you know."

* * *

Unfortunately, Bitty has left for work by the time Jack gets home that afternoon. He feels a stab of disappointment when he walks in and realizes the house is empty. He tells himself it's just because he wanted to tell Bitty his idea, but he's not sure that's entirely true.

The next day, though, he gets home from his shift at the food bank and can immediately tell that Bitty is not only there, but has dinner well underway.

"You need help with anything?" Jack asks from the doorway to the kitchen.

Bitty looks up from where he's chopping a carrot. "Oh! No, that's fine, thank you though. I've got a casserole in the oven, all I gotta do is finish up this salad and everything should be ready for when Lardo and Shitty get home."

Jack nods. For a moment he watches Bitty chopping, the movement somewhat hypnotic.

"It smells good," he says. Bitty grins, eyes on the carrot.

"It's a chicken enchilada casserole," he says. "Chicken and black beans for lean protein, but more'n enough cheese to make up for that. On the whole, not ridiculously healthy but not bad for you either—I think you'll like it."

"Sounds good," Jack says, and tears his eyes away from Bitty's hands to head up to his room.

Half an hour later, they're eating—the casserole _is_ pretty good, it turns out. 

There's a pause in the conversation, then at the exact same time, Jack and Bitty both say, "I had an idea."

"Oh, sorry, you go ahead," Bitty says, ducking his head a bit.

"Uh, my idea was about you, so I guess you go first and then maybe my idea will be irrelevant," Jack says.

"About me?" Bitty's eyes widen. "No, I wanna hear yours first."

"It's really not that exciting," Jack says, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He wasn't expecting such a big deal to be made out of this. "Sorry, I can talk to you about it later."

"Oh no, that's okay, you—"

"Oh my god, are you sure you two aren't _really_ from Georgia and Canada?" Shitty breaks in. "One of you needs to roll over and acknowledge the other as the politeness alpha."

They must both hesitate for a beat too long, because Lardo sighs. "Bitty, you go first."

"Okay. Well. Um, you know how you said I should take what brings me joy and use it to bring joy to others? And Jack, you said I was pretty good at teaching you to bake, right?" They all nod. "Well, I've learned a lot from YouTube videos, so I was thinkin' maybe I should make my own? I know it's not actually meeting people or interacting with them directly, but it still helps people, y'know?"

"Hey, online friends are real friends," Lardo says with a shrug. "So, you're doing what you love and what you want to be doing anyhow, but using it to connect with people and help them out. I like it."

"Right on!" Shitty says, and offers Bitty a fist to bump. "So what was your idea, Jack-O?"

Jack's cheeks heat. His idea is nowhere near that creative. He really is stuck in a narrow view of how to help people. There's no reason to think Bitty would want do bake things for the shelter just because Jack volunteers there; obviously making videos to teach people how to bake is better-suited to his bubbly, friendly personality.

"No, thats… you should do that," he says to Bitty. "My idea was dumb."

"I doubt that," Bitty says, spearing some salad vegetables with his fork. "I mean, maybe it's something I wanna do, maybe it's not, but I doubt it's _dumb_."

'I should mind my own business," Jack mumbles. "I shouldn't try to… dictate how you contribute to society."

"I made you bake with me literally within minutes of us agreeing to try this whole thing," Bitty points out. "I didn't even give you a choice, really."

Which is true. And that's worked out okay.

"I just, um. I talked to the director at one of the shelters I volunteer at, and it sounds like if you wanted to, like, bake enough of something for all their residents to have some at dinner, that would be a thing you could do. He says that sometimes the groups volunteering to cook dinner also do dessert, but we could probably find out what nights they're not planning to and, like, sign up to do some of those. We could bake stuff in advance and they can reheat it there."

By the end, Bitty is staring at Jack incredulously, and he barely manages not to trail off to mumbling again.

"I'm sorry," Bitty says, shaking his head, "but what part of that was supposed to be _dumb_? That's a great idea, Jack. Honestly, I've been wondering who else I can give stuff to, 'cause y'all only eat so much, Shitty's office limited him to bringing baked goods in once a week, and you and Lardo don't exactly work in places where large amounts of food are welcomed."

Jack frowns. "I could leave some in the break room," he says. "Although we have so few employees, I doubt they'd go through a whole pie in one day."

"Maybe a plate of cookies?"

"Losing the plot here," Shitty says.

"Right," Bitty says. "Anyhow, yeah, we should talk about that, Jack! I just need you to get me the details like how many servings, what dates are available, if there are rules about what I can and can't bring, all that."

"I'll talk to Alexei next time I'm there," Jack says, nodding.

They finish dinner, and as usual when Bitty cooks, the other three clean up the kitchen afterward. Jack starts loading the dishwasher.

"That was a really good idea," Lardo says to him quietly as she wipes down the counter next to him. "And don't think I didn't notice that you switched from saying 'you' could bake things to saying ' _we_ ' could bake things about halfway through your spiel."

Jack pauses, holding a plate awkwardly above the rack it should be slotted into. "I did?"

"You did."

Jack shrugs as he goes back to loading. "I've been baking with him a lot lately."

"You have been." She wipes quietly for a minute, then just as she's about to go, turns to him. "You guys have both been doing a lot better since you started hanging out more. I think you're really, legitimately good for each other."

Jack shrugs awkwardly. "I guess so?"

Lardo just punches him in the arm and leaves him to finish the dishes.

* * *

Bitty has still been going to clubs. Not as often, but he goes.

Jack hadn't been sure at first if he's still hooking up with random guys. Then he overhears a conversation he really didn't need to overhear, and it turns out the answer is yes.

It bothers him even more now. Which makes no sense.

After his discussion about shame with Lardo and Shitty, he's tried to just accept that human emotions are often completely illogical, but it pisses him off sometimes. _Especially_ now that he and Bitty are becoming friends—Jack doesn't want to risk alienating him by accidentally coming off as judgmental.

And they are becoming friends, far more quickly than Jack ever would have expected. He smiles when he comes home and Bitty is there. They have entire conversations, just the two of them, without either of them getting annoyed. 

Jack isn't sure what changed. One or both of them has to have changed, right? If they barely got along before, and they're the same people, surely finding one activity they enjoy together couldn't change that.

It's Saturday night, just a few days after Bitty agreed to bake for the shelter, and Jack finds himself pondering this question in bed. Bitty is off work tonight, and they ran into each other in the hallway earlier. Jack was in pajamas and had just brushed his teeth. Bitty, on the other hand, was dressed in incredibly tight jeans and what Jack assumes was an incredibly trendy shirt, and had done something to his hair. It was like it is in the mornings, rumpled from sleep, except the rumpling had a very precise feel to it and it was held in place with some kind of product.

Jack was on his way to bed, and Bitty was on his way to a club. So much about them hasn't changed—so how can they be friends?

He thinks about their time baking together. He has to admit, it's given him a new appreciation for Bitty as a person. He may be obsessed with all the wrong things, but he's also very good at what he does. Maybe everything he appreciates about Bitty has been there all along, and all that's changed is that now he sees it up close, where he couldn't ignore it if he tried.

He wonders what on earth Bitty might be seeing in him up close.

* * *

A couple of days later, Shitty has agreed to pick up some pizza on the way home from work while Bitty is bustling around getting ready to _go_ to work.

Bitty is just putting on his coat when Shitty bursts in the door, pizzas in hand.

"Guess what we're doing this weekend, amigos?"

Bitty freezes with one arm in his coat as Jack pokes his head into the entryway from where he'd been reading in the living room. Lardo doesn't seem at all concerned; she just takes the pizzas from Shitty.

"What are we doing?" Jack asks cautiously.

"Neither of you is working Friday night, right?"

Jack and Bitty shake their heads.

"Excellent. In that case, I'm declaring this Friday night our first official Haus Board Game Night!"

"Woohoo!" Lardo says, quietly but not insincerely, as she carries the pizza off toward the kitchen.

"We play board games all the time," Bitty says. "We played Scrabble three days ago. Jack is never allowed to play Scrabble again, remember?"

Jack rolls his eyes. "The rules say—"

"We won't play Scrabble," Shitty cuts him off. "And we play board games, but this is a Board Game _Night_. That means we have guests over. And _that_ means you're each required to invite someone."

"I don't know anyone," Jack says automatically.

"Liar," Lardo calls from the kitchen. "You said you'd have like ten Facebook friends if you had a Facebook."

"But that's just people I've met," Jack insists. "I know their names; I don't _know_ them."

"Well, now's your chance to get to know 'em!" Shitty says with a huge grin. "And hey, you just gotta _invite_ one person. If they can't make it, you're off the hook. This time."

Jack glances at Bitty and sees on his face the same mix of confusion and worry that he's feeling.

"We're just supposed to… ask random people at work to come play board games? At our house?" Bitty asks.

"Not random people," Shitty says, rolling his eyes. "There must be one or two people you get along with better than the others, right? The ones you talk to on breaks, joke around with while you're closing up. _Those_ people. Trust me, they won't think it's weird."

"How is this a problem for _you_?" Jack asks Bitty. "You're friendly. You're outgoing. You chat with cashiers at the grocery store. You have sex with people whose names you don't even know." He's pretty sure he manages to say the last sentence without sounding at all judgmental, even if it still makes his stomach twist in a weird way.

Bitty turns wide eyes on him.

"I don't have to spend a whole evening talking to those people while hiding the fact that I'm seven months old! If things get awkward I don't have to go right back to work with them the next day! This is totally different!"

" _This_ is how you make friends and not just acquaintances," Shitty says, and pushes him out the door.

"Nobody I work with will believe that I want to hang out with them," Jack says, voice flat. "They don't think I hate them, but they know me _just_ well enough to know that I wouldn't do this by choice."

"You work at like two dozen places, brah," Shitty says, slapping Jack on the shoulder as he passes him on the way to the kitchen, "there must be someone at one of 'em who doesn't know you seriously considered becoming a monk."

"I don't think any of them know that," Jack says as he follows. "I didn't even know Lardo told _you_ that."

"Then how do you know they don't know?" Shitty throws him a grin. "I'm just saying, there must be people who know you're quiet, but haven't spent enough time with you to realize you're downright antisocial. Now let's eat."

* * *

Alexei is turned away, digging through a file cabinet, so Jack knocks on the door frame of his office. He glances over his shoulder, then turns around with a smile when he sees it's Jack.

"Jack! Hello!"

"Hi," Jack says. "So I, uh, I talked to my friend. About the baking? He's excited to do it. He said he just needs to know how much to make and if there are any rules about what he can and can't make. And what dates, of course."

"Oh, great! Give me one second." Alexei pulls a file from the drawer and closes it, then rummages around the piles on the desk until he finds a sheet of paper. "Here, this is guidelines for groups doing dinner. It should have most information he needs. I will look at dates—stop by again when you leave? I should have dates by then."

"Sure, no problem," Jack says, accepting the paper. He pauses. He still hasn't decided if this is a weird thing to ask or not, so he errs on the side of blaming Shitty. "Also, um. My housemates are having a board game night this weekend, and one of them is on this weird kick where he thinks we all need to make new friends so we're all required to invite someone we haven't hung out with before. Would you want to come?"

Alexei immediately perks up like Jack has personally handed him one of Bitty's pies. "Yeah! Sound like fun! Is Friday or Saturday?"

"Friday. I think he said around seven, and we'll order takeout?"

"Sounds great! Here, give me phone." Alexei holds out a hand, and Jack blinks at it for a moment before reaching into his pocket. He's not sure why Alexei wants his phone, but he also has a hunch that it would be weird to ask. But when he hands it to Alexei, Alexei looks at it then hands it back. "Unlock?"

"Oh. Right, yeah," Jack says, shaking his head like he can't believe he forgot to do that. This time, Alexei fiddles with the phone for a moment, typing something in, before handing it back. Jack looks down to see that he's added himself as a contact. Of course. That makes sense. "There. You text me details. Address and things. Yes?"

"Yeah. Sure. Great, thanks."

"Thanks for invite! Don't forget to stop by on way out for dates for baking, yes?"

"Yep," Jack says, and continues on his way to the other office.

That wasn't so hard. And Alexei didn't seem to think it was weird. And if Jack and Bitty turn out to be terrible at hiding their lack of a past, or Shitty decides to do the game night naked… Well, at least Jack doesn't need the volunteer position like he needs his job.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack watches in amusement as Bitty puts his hands on his hips and surveys the array of food on the counter yet again.

"Okay. We've got a fruit pie _and_ a cream pie, so our bases are covered there. Brownies, chocolate chip cookies, snickerdoodles. Chips and dip plus mini-quiches for appetizers. Beer, hard cider, and a few varieties of soda. And, of course, we'll be ordering actual food for dinner."

"Are you sure we'll need to?" Jack asks.

Bitty startles at the sound of his voice, then turns and smacks him on the arm.

"Hush, you. I just hope everyone doesn't fill up on Chinese before they even get to try all this."

"I'm sure everyone will try something," Jack says. "But there's only going to be nine of us, I'm not sure we'd finish all that even without the takeout."

Bitty looks up at him, bottom lip between his teeth and a wrinkle between his eyebrows. Jack is hit with an overwhelming urge to comfort him, which is interesting—they've been getting along well, but Jack has never felt… _protective_ of him like this.

"I'm not going to promise that everyone will love everything," Jack says, placing a careful hand on Bitty's shoulder. "Everyone has different tastes. But I promise that everyone will love _something_ you made."

The crease between Bitty's brows disappears as they climb toward his hair. "Even you?"

"Of course," Jack says with a frown. "You know I like everything you make. I just don't gorge myself on it."

There's mischief in Bitty's eyes as he asks, "But _love_ , Jack? You never have more than a _tiny piece_ of anything. I still don't think I've found anything you _love_."

Jack rolls his eyes and gives Bitty's shoulder a little shove. "You know what I mean."

Bitty jumps a little as the doorbell rings. He casts one more worried look at his food, wringing his hands. "Phone rings, door chimes, in walks company," he sings to himself.

"What?" Jack asks.

"Oh, I've been on a Sondheim kick," Bitty says, waving a hand as though that explains everything.

Jack follows him into the living room as Lardo walks in with a small Indian woman and… Ford. Ford doesn't notice him at first, as she's talking to Lardo.

"Shruti! Hi!" Bitty says. "Glad you could make it!"

"Thanks for inviting us," Shruti says, then motions to Ford. "This is my girlfriend, Denice. This is Eric."

Ford finally looks up, and looks as startled to see Jack as he is to see her.

"Jack! What are you doing here?"

"Uh, hi," he says. "I live here?"

Shruti, Lardo, and Bitty are looking back and forth between them, confused.

"We work together," Ford explains. "At the bookstore. And you live with… Eric? Who works with Shruti?"

"I guess?" Jack says.

"Yep, Jack is one of my housemates," Bitty says. "What a crazy coincidence! Oh shoot, I left all the appetizers in the kitchen. Can I grab you two something to drink while I'm in there?"

Jack hangs back as Bitty and Lardo get the guests settled in. He was already nervous about socializing with Alexei outside of the shelter—now he's got Ford to worry about. Or Denice. Ford must be her last name. Is she insulted that Jack didn't invite her?

"This was great timing," she's telling Lardo. "I'm a stage manager, so a lot of the time I don't get to socialize in the evenings much, but I'm between shows right now."

How did Jack not know she's a stage manager? It makes sense that she'd have a part-time job with morning hours to go along with that.

"Hey! I heard our first guests arrive!" Shitty calls as he comes bounding down the stairs. He introduces himself to Shruti and Ford as Bitty bustles in and out with the appetizers and drinks. At some point a bottle of hard cider gets pushed into Jack's hand. He takes a sip as the doorbell rings again.

Shitty gets it this time, and greets whoever it is loudly and enthusiastically. It doesn't sound like Alexei.

"Guys, guys!" he all but shouts as he leads a man wearing a Sharks hoodie and a big smile into the living room. "This is Chris! We were 1Ls together, but he, being a far more intelligent man than I, got the hell out of law school and is now much happier as a high school chemistry teacher than he ever would have been as a lawyer."

Chris nods, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, I love it! The kids are so great, plus this year I'm coaching the school hockey team!"

"You know Lardo, and these are my other housemates, Bitty and Jack. And this is Shruti, who works with Bitty, and her girlfriend Denice, who apparently works with Jack. Small world, huh?"

"Oh, cool!" Chris says. "Sorry Cait couldn't make it—that's my wife," he adds for everyone else's benefit. "She's awesome. But she's at a conference this weekend."

The next guest arrives as Bitty asks Chris what he'd like to drink, a tall woman with long, dark hair who looks a little older than the rest of them, maybe in her mid-30s. It seems she already knows Shitty and even Chris, and Lardo introduces her to the rest of them as Georgia Martin.

"She's great," Lardo had told them earlier. "She was one of the first friends I made when I got here. We went to the same coffee shop all the time, and eventually got to talking. Turned out she was flirting with me, and we went out on a couple dates, but it was pretty obvious we just weren't into each other like that. But she was happy to find someone who wanted to go to all the weird little experimental theater shit with her, since most of her friends are jocks who wouldn't touch a one-woman show with a ten foot pole."

The bell rings again, and since only his guest is left, Jack figures he should probably answer it.

"Hey! Jack! Hi!" Alexei is as gregarious as ever, which Jack is thankful for when he immediately starts introducing himself to everyone, relieving Jack of the duty.

They start out with Cards Against Humanity while they order and then wait for their dinner to arrive. Jack is thankful for his accent, as he can use it to gloss over his missed pop culture references.

Well, most of them.

"I'm not buying it," Ford says, narrowing her eyes at him when he professes confusion at one of the cards he's choosing from. "Nickelback is a _Canadian_ band. No way you've never even _heard_ of them."

Jack freezes, suddenly completely incapable of coming up with a single halfway believable lie. Thankfully it's Shruti, of all people, who comes to his rescue.

"Babe, they're not _French_ Canadian," she points out. "He probably didn't even listen to music in English until he moved here."

"Not even Celine Dion?" Ford challenges him.

"Tout son meilleur travail est en français," he scoffs, because at least he knows enough to know how he should feel about Celine Dion.

Chris giggles, then when it becomes apparent that he's the only other person in the room who speaks French, translates for everyone else. "He said all her best work is in French."

It goes well aside from that small hiccup. Once they have their dinner, they split into two groups, one to play Ticket to Ride and one to play a game called Pandemic that Chris brought.

"Nope, you're playing that one," Lardo says, pushing Jack toward the Pandemic group with Alexei, Bitty, and Shruti. "No way for you to get overly competitive there." Jack grumbles but doesn't argue.

The game is actually pretty fun; Jack has to admit that it's nice to not worry about winning, or about whether he's being an asshole to these people they're trying to become friends with. After they all finish their food (or, at least, have abandoned the dregs of it on nearly-empty paper plates scattered around the room), Bitty calls for a timeout on their game so he can bring out dessert.

"Okay, y'all," he says as he brings out the tray of cookies and brownies, "there are two pies, too, but it's safer to leave those on the counter so y'all can serve yourself a slice. One cherry, one chocolate cream."

A couple of people get up to get pie, though Jack is content with a brownie from the platter. Alexei comes back with a large slice of cherry pie and then piles two cookies and a brownie onto his plate with them.

"These all really good," he says a few minutes later around a mouthful of cookie. "Where you buy?"

"Bitty made all of it," Jack says.

"Jack helped with the pies," Bitty is quick to add.

Alexei raises his eyebrows at Jack. "Is this baker?"

"Oh, yeah!" Jack motions between the two of them. "Bitty, Alexei's the one I was talking to about you baking for the shelter."

"Holy shit, now that I taste your food no way can I turn down!" Alexei says.

By the time the guests are all gone, Jack is exhausted. But he has to admit that he had a good time. He helps Bitty wrap up the leftover food.

"Well, I'm glad the brownies and the cherry pie all went. Do you think the chocolate pie was maybe too rich for this kind of thing? Or maybe too heavy after Chinese food?"

Jack shakes his head, grinning, as he piles cookies into a tupperware. "There were only three slices of chocolate pie left. You cut the pies into eight slices each. That means that nine people ate thirteen slices of pie, a dozen brownies, and at least two dozen cookies, _after_ eating Chinese food. I'm amazed anyone could walk to the T."

"I think Chris and Alexei ate half of that," Bitty says. "I know they had at least two slices of pie each, plus who knows how many brownies and cookies."

"Probably," Jack allows, "but I promise you everyone tried at least two desserts."

Bitty closes the refrigerator, where he just put the quiches away, and raises an eyebrow at Jack. "Even you?"

"Oh, come on, you saw what I ate. I had the cherry pie, a brownie, _and_ a snicker-thing."

"Snicker _doodle_ ," Bitty corrects him, trying not to smile. Jack really did forget the name the first time Bitty made them; now he just refuses to say it because it makes Bitty laugh.

"That's a ridiculous name for a cookie," Jack scoffs.

" _You're_ ridiculous," Bitty shoots back over his shoulder as he leaves the kitchen. The affectionate look he gives Jack makes something tangle up inside his stomach. He's really glad they're becoming friends.

* * *

 **Jack** : Can you meet me at work when I get off today?

 **Bitty** : Sure. Why? Everything okay?

 **Jack** : Yes. I just wanted to show you something.

He should probably be showing both Bitty and Lardo. They would both understand. And he's planning to show Lardo, too—he just wants to show Bitty _first_ for some reason. Probably because they fell together. They've been dealing with all of this on the same timeline, while Lardo has had several years now to adjust. It's still just as raw for Bitty as it is for Jack.

When he clocks out and emerges from behind the counter, he can see Bitty outside on the sidewalk before he even makes it to the door. Bitty is standing in front of the window, mouth open.

"You found it," Jack says unnecessarily as he exits the store.

Bitty turns to him and raises an eyebrow. "It's kinda hard to miss. You did all this?"

At least there's a biting wind to blame for how pink Jack's cheeks turn. "I didn't draw any of the pictures. I used art that's in the public domain."

Bitty smirks at him, then looks back to the window. "I knew that, silly. I've seen some of these before. But you still… you made _this_." Because Jack is watching Bitty's face instead of looking at the display he spent his last two shifts working on, he sees as the smirk falls away. A thoughtful look replaces it. "Was that okay for you?"

"I mean, obviously it doesn't compare to what I do in Heaven…"

"Jack." Bitty's voice is quiet but firm. Jack does look at the display now, in order to avoid seeing how Bitty looks at him. "You know that's not a fair comparison. And that's not what I meant anyhow. This is… it's a lot. I'm happier to be here than you are, and I dunno if I coulda done it."

"I think I needed to," Jack says, gazing up at the cardstock seraphim hanging near the top. In his mind's eye, he superimposes the image of the seraph who brought him before the Council. "I needed to… to put some distance between here and there? These aren't angels, these are human ideas of angels."

"Like a filter," Bitty replies. Jack looks down at him, desperately glad that he gets it. "Humans can't look directly at the sun 'cause it'll burn their retinas, but they can get special filters to look through, for eclipses and things. They can't see much of it, of course, but it won't hurt them anymore to look directly at it if they look through the filter."

"Yeah," Jack says. "Like that." Bitty holds his gaze for a moment, until for some reason it's too much and he has to look back up at the window.

* * *

"Oh my goodness, we've got such a big day planned!"

Bitty had looked as bleary and adorably rumpled as ever when he'd first walked into the kitchen, but now that he's got half a mug of coffee into him, he's starting to bustle around, cracking eggs and whisking things and pulling spinach out of the refrigerator.

"Whatcha got on, Bits?" Shitty asks as he and Lardo pour their own mugs of coffee. Jack has already jogged, showered, and drained his own mug, and is now reading the news on his phone at the kitchen table.

"Well, I told Alexei I'd come in with Jack when he goes to the shelter Thursday and bring in some pies, so we've got ten pies to bake today, and I'm gonna use it as an excuse to film my first YouTube video! I figure weaving a lattice would be a fun thing to start off with."

"We?" Lardo asks.

"Well, Jack's kindly agreed to help me, of course," Bitty says, flashing him a smile. "So I'm gonna whip up some healthy veggie omelets for us, then get showered and ready and we can get started."

"You don't have to—" Jack tries, knowing he'll be cut off before Bitty even does it.

"You hush," Bitty says as he shoots Jack a glare. "It's the least I can do for as busy as I'll be keeping you today. Here, chop up this onion and pepper and we'll call it even. And if you two want omelets, too, I can find jobs for you."

"Thanks, but we're meeting Chris and Caitlin for brunch," Lardo says. "We'll probably be out the rest of the day Christmas shopping."

After Shitty and Lardo disappear and Bitty and Jack finish their breakfast, Bitty sets Jack to peeling, coring, and slicing apples while he goes to take a shower. Last week when Shitty saw Jack pitting cherries he'd made a joke about Jack getting stuck with the grunt work, but Jack doesn't mind it. He knows it's not Bitty's favorite part, but he finds the repetitive motions meditative, kind of like shelving books at work. And with ten pies to make, at six or seven apples per pie, he'll be doing a lot of meditating this morning.

After a bit, Bitty comes down to help. His hair is still wet from his shower, and that draws Jack's attention to the fact that it's laying a bit differently today. The sides and back are shorn close to the skin, making the longer hair on top look floppier even though it's probably shorter, too.

"Did… did you get a haircut?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah!" Bitty says brightly, one hand absently coming up to touch it. "A couple days ago."

Jack frowns, thinking. "That must not be the first time."

Bitty smirks as he pulls the core out of his skinned apple and tosses it in the pile to be sliced. "No, Jack, it's not. Unlike you, I get my hair cut every couple months."

Jack reaches up to tug at his own hair. He pulls a lock down in front of his eyes to look at it. It had been pretty short when they got here, but now it's down around his ears. "Should I be doing that?"

Bitty shrugs. "If you want. You could get it cut back to how it looked when we got here, or just about any other way you want. But you don't have to."

Jack thinks about how his hair looked in the mirror this morning, and how Shitty's hair looks, as he peels the next apple. "Do you think it would look better short?"

Bitty glances at him. "I thought it looked nice short, but I think it looks nice enough now, too. If you want to keep growing it out but have it look tidier'n Shitty's, you could have someone trim it into a shape that'll grow out nicely."

"Huh," is all Jack says, and he refocuses on his apples. 

He wishes Bitty had a stronger opinion on what looked better, which is weird because Jack doesn't usually care much how he looks. He guesses it makes sense, though—if he is going to think about his hair, Bitty is much more attuned to that kind of thing and would know better than Jack what looks good. He's clearly very good at keeping his _own_ hair looking nice.

It turns out that Bitty made the pie dough yesterday, so all they have to do is roll each disc of dough out and lay it in the pie tin. Bitty bought disposable tins for this, and Jack smirks as he complains about how small they are.

"Deep dish pies really are so much nicer," he says as he watches Jack roll out some dough. "Everyone likes more filling, and a nice tall slice just looks so much prettier. Plus, there's more room to do nice patterns on the top crust with my pie tins. I think I might go ahead and do one normal-sized one for my video after we're done with these. I'll film myself teaching you the lattice on these, too, but it'd be nice to have a full-sized one for presentation's sake."

Soon they have ten crusts tucked into ten (smallish) pie tins, each covered in plastic wrap and tucked back into the refrigerator until it gets its turn to be filled.

Making ten pies' worth of filling at once turns out to be a bit messier than one pie at a time. Clouds of flour, sugar, and cinnamon puff through the air, and Jack laughs when Bitty gets a streak of cinnamon on his cheek that makes him look like a football player with grease under his eyes. He teases Bitty when they bump into each other and gets flour flung in his face for it, but finds himself laughing again.

He watches carefully as Bitty explains the lattice and starts laying it out. Halfway through he motions for Jack to take over. Jack's eyes widen in alarm.

"Already? I haven't even watched you do a whole pie!"

Bitty smirks at him. "How about you just do a couple steps' worth, then I'll take it back from you? Just to get your feet wet."

When the pie is done, Jack is sure you can tell which bits of the lattice he did, even if Bitty swears you can't.

"Now, given that these pies will already be a little fiddly due to being smaller and thinner than I'm used to, I'm not gonna tempt fate by tryin' to put more'n one in the oven at once," Bitty says after he's put a timer on the first pie. "So I figure when that one's about halfway done, we'll start on the next one. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that makes sense," Jack says. "So we have a half an hour with nothing to do each time?"

"Seems like a perfect excuse to binge our way through ten episodes of a sitcom today!" Bitty says brightly, and grabs Jack's hand to drag him into the living room before he can argue.

On the fourth pie, Bitty finally insists Jack do the lattice himself. It's every bit the disaster Jack knew it would be.

"Look at this," he gripes halfway through, a strip of pastry dangling from his fingers. "It's awful. I have no idea why you're trusting me with this."

"Stop it," Bitty says from the other side of the room, where he's fiddling with his video camera. "I'm sure it's great. Let me see."

When Bitty appears at his side, Jack gestures irately at the ruined pie.

"Oh, that's not so bad! Look, you just got off the pattern here. Let's fold these ones back a step and try that strip again…"

Jack has to admit, the final result doesn't look nearly as abysmal as he'd expected. It looks nothing like Bitty's beautiful lattices, but you can tell it's a pie. Basically. Just a lumpier, wonkier pie than the others.

A couple pies later, they admit that they really should clean up after themselves, so while Bitty wipes down the counters, Jack sets to work washing the dishes.

This is the longest the two of them have ever spent alone together, and the entire day has been relaxing and fun. A few weeks ago Jack would never have believed that he could enjoy spending a day alone with Bitty this much. As he washes the dishes, he starts telling Bitty about the applications he's been working on for master's programs, something he hasn't even really talked to Lardo or Shitty about because he's so nervous about it. But Bitty is an attentive listener; if he gets bored of Jack's monologue, he doesn't show it.

At one point, though, as Bitty picks up some of the dishes Jack's washed to dry them, Jack looks over and sees the strangest look on his face. Jack immediately reaches up to wipe at his own cheeks—he's sure he must have flour or something all over him, for Bitty to be looking at him like that.

"What's wrong?" he asks. When Bitty doesn't respond, Jack shakes his head and goes back to the dishes, smiling. "If there's anything on my face, you put it there," he says.

"You know, I will be… right back," Bitty says slowly, setting down the dish towel. He nearly runs out of the room, leaving Jack frowning after him, hoping he didn't say something wrong.

Bitty gets back just in time to start the next lattice, and the rest of their baking session passes without incident. Jack is surprised to find himself disappointed when Shitty and Lardo get home. He must have been enjoying his time alone with Bitty even more than he'd realized. He's more relieved than he should be when they settle in to watch TV and leave Bitty and Jack alone in the kitchen to work on their last pie.

This is the extra one in one of Bitty's personal pie tins, and he makes Jack turn away as he fills the shell.

"There," he says. "This one has a special ingredient in it. I'll find a dessert you can't help but eat more than one piece of yet, Mr. Zimmermann."

Jack just laughs and helps him with the lattice, but once the pie is baking he has to admit it smells better than the others. They have leftovers for dinner while it bakes and cools, though unfortunately Bitty wants to take their food into the living room to hang out with Lardo and Shitty instead of keeping it in the kitchen with just the two of them.

Jack tries not to feel hurt at the idea that Bitty wasn't enjoying their time alone as much as he was. It's ridiculous; they've had _all day_ together. Of course Bitty wants to see his other friends, too. It's not even like he doesn't want to be around Jack, he just wants to be around Jack _with_ their other housemates. Jack is almost embarrassed at how mollified he feels when Bitty sits down on the floor next to him to eat off the coffee table instead of sitting in one of the armchairs.

Once the pie is cooled, Bitty insists on cutting them all slices himself, even though he has to balance four plates of pie on his way out of the kitchen. ("I'm a _server_ , Jack, this is what I _do_.")

As Jack accepts his slice, he's hit again by the smell of the pie. It's definitely subtly different from the other apple pies they've baked. And Jack should know; he's spent an entire day surrounded by the scent of apple pie. He pokes at it, moving some of the filling around as though he'll be able to see this secret ingredient Bitty added. When he realizes that Bitty is watching him instead of eating his own pie, though, he cuts it out and takes a bite.

"Holy shit," he says around a mouthful of pie. "What'd you put in this?"

Bitty beams. "Maple syrup. The real stuff. I had a feeling—your body is from Canada, after all."

"Isn't that a little stereotypical of you?" Jack asks, but he asks it while shoveling another forkful of pie into his mouth.

"If the snowshoe fits," Lardo says, smirking at him.

"Next we should see if you like Tim Horton's coffee better than Dunkie's," Shitty says, poking Jack in the shoulder.

"Your face likes Tim Horton's coffee," Jack mutters into his pie, trying not to smile when all three of his housemates crack up.

Bitty reaches over and pats him on the knee, and Jack immediately forgives him for any Canadian stereotyping he may have ever done. To anyone, ever. "It's okay. Now you understand how I feel when I'm the only one here who'll eat okra."

When Jack has a second slice of the pie, it's because he really does like it that much. The fact that it makes Bitty look so pleased with himself is only a side benefit.

* * *

Jack wouldn't mind more excuses to spend time alone with Bitty, but with such different schedules and two other people in the house, it's not easy. Over the next two weeks, they spend plenty of time together, but rarely more than an hour without either Lardo or Shitty also there. Even when they bake for the shelter again, it only takes a few hours because it's cupcakes this time, and Lardo helps frost them.

"You're off tomorrow night, right?" Jack finally asks. "Maybe we should do something." He's not sure what they should do, or how he'll justify doing it without Lardo or Shitty, but as it turns out he's saved from having to figure any of that out.

"I have a date!" Bitty yelps, like Jack startled it out of him. Jack is the one who's startled, though.

"I heard that!" Shitty yells down the stairs, then comes clattering down them. By the time he joins them, Jack hasn't figured out what to say next and Bitty is looking anywhere but at him. Shitty doesn't notice any awkwardness, though. "Bits! When did this happen? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Oh, it—it's not that big a deal," Bitty says, straightening a stack of books on an end table. "Just a guy I met at a coffee shop on the way to work yesterday. I'd been thinking, y'know, I really should try it, right?" He glances at Jack, but if it's to look for confirmation that he should try dating, Jack is still too shellshocked to give it. "So I said yes. Anyhow. It'll probably be awkward as all get-out, but you gotta start somewhere, right?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Shitty says, throwing an arm around Bitty's shoulders. Jack is irrationally annoyed that Shitty agrees that Bitty should be going on dates with random men in coffee shops. "Is he hot?"

Bitty shrugs and blushes. "He's cute enough, I suppose. Nothing heart-stopping, but I won't mind looking at him over dinner."

Jack finally finds his voice. "You're going on a date with some random stranger?"

It's clearly the wrong thing to say, from the way Bitty bristles. "Who else am I supposed to go on a date with?" he snaps. "Neither of us knows literally _anybody_ , remember? I know you don't approve of me hooking up with men I don't know, but this is just dinner. In a public restaurant. It's not exactly risky behavior."

Jack frowns. That's not why the idea annoys him. He's not sure why it does, but he knows it's not that. "I didn't say it was. And I've told you, I don't _dis_ approve of anything you do. I just don't get it. I don't understand why you would want to commit to spending time alone with someone you know nothing about." _When you could spend time alone with me instead_ , he doesn't say. That must be it. He's just annoyed because he was hoping to hang out with Bitty and now Bitty won't be available. He's immediately ashamed of how selfish that is. "What if it's terrible?"

"That's life," Shitty says. "Some dates are duds, but you gotta get out there and try or you'll never find the one that'll knock your fuckin' socks off."

"Exactly," Bitty says. "Worst case, I eat a good meal while I sit there, bored out of my mind. Best case, maybe I'll have a terrific time and soon I'll land my first boyfriend! Either way, it's one evening."

"I guess," Jack says, shrugging. He doesn't say anything else; they may be spending a lot more time together, but their turn from mild antagonism to friendship is still new enough that he doesn't want to put it at risk.

* * *

The date, as it turns out, is a dud. Bitty is back by 10pm. He flops onto the couch next to Jack, who pauses the movie he and Lardo were watching—Shitty had something come up at work and won't be back until late.

"Oh my god," Bitty moans.

"That bad?" Lardo asks with a wince.

"Well, let's put it this way. I didn't have to worry about messing up my backstory, because Chad did not stop talking about himself for thirty seconds. Somehow, even the questions he asked _me_ were about him! He asked what kind of music I like, basically ignored the five words I managed to get out, and started telling me about this band he's in that he thinks I'd really enjoy. Or when he rambled about his incredibly boring investment banking job for ten minutes and then asked me if I'd ever considered going into finance. Not 'what do you do' or 'what do you _want_ to do,' just asking if I want to have the same career as him!"

As much as Jack didn't want Bitty to go on the date, he does feel bad that he had to sit through that. Even if he's selfishly glad that there clearly won't be a second date.

"Oh well," Lardo says. "Fish in the sea, blah blah blah. I told you how when I first got here, I dated a bit before I introduced myself to Shitty, just so I was comfortable with like how to behave and shit? I think I might have met that same guy, although I'm pretty sure he was going by Drew back then. They won't all be like that." She stands up from the armchair and stretches. "And now you get to eat a bowl of ice cream and watch a bad movie with your best friends, so the night's not a total loss, right?"

Bitty laughs. "I suppose not. What kind of ice cream?"

"I have no idea, I just know Shitty bought some at the store today. You want some, Jack?"

"Sure," Jack says. He knows Lardo knows to give him a small scoop, unlike the giant bowls she'll get for herself and Bitty. "Sorry your date went so badly," he says once she's gone.

Bitty rolls his eyes. "I mean, I guess you were right about going out with some random stranger. But I was right, too, because it's not like I lost anything other than three hours of my time. At least he paid for dinner."

"No, that was dumb of me to say," Jack says. Now that Bitty is back home and complaining about Chad, he's not feeling nearly so bitter about the whole thing. "You're right, we don't know anyone. Who else are you going to date?"

"Yeah," Bitty says, sounding more down than Jack expected. "Who else? Maybe I'll sign up for one of those websites or apps or something. At least then I'd get a guy's profile to read first."

Jack clenches his jaw against the bitterness trying to come back. "Maybe."

* * *

Bitty does sign up for some website or app or something, and is immediately popular. He complains about most of the guys just wanting to hook up, claiming that now that he's actually trying this dating thing, he'd kind of like to find out what it's like to have sex with someone he knows a little better, maybe even has feelings for. He clearly expects Jack to approve of this, but Jack finds himself angrier than ever at the thought. He hides it well enough that he manages not to upset Bitty, though.

But not all the guys just want to hook up, and Bitty has a steady stream of dates.

Well, it feels like a steady stream to Jack. In reality, it's one a week maybe three weeks in a row. But every one of them puts Jack in a dour mood. He takes to holing up in his room when he knows Bitty has one so he doesn't have to see him leave or hear him gush about what this guy said over text on his way out.

Thankfully, Bitty doesn't seem any more eager to discuss his dating life with Jack than Jack is to hear about it. It continues to cut into time that Jack could be spending with him, but Jack can't really complain since they _are_ hanging out more than ever. Just rarely alone.

"Hm," Bitty says one day as he and Jack are eating a quick lunch together in Jack's free hour between the bookstore and the food bank. "I'm supposed to bring in some baking for the shelter again this week. Are you free Wednesday afternoon—oh wait, what am I saying, you have one of the volunteer things on Wednesdays, don't you?"

He does, indeed, have a shift at the other shelter that day—but Lardo and Shitty will both be at work, and he hasn't missed a single shift anywhere this whole time. So he'll only feel a little bit bad about cancelling. And a little bit bad about lying when he says, "Oh, uh. It's cancelled this week. They're doing some office renovations or something. I can help bake Wednesday."

He can't help but smile at how Bitty's face brightens at that. "What a coincidence! I was thinking maybe a variety of cookies…"

For the next two days, all Jack can think about is getting to bake with Bitty, alone, all afternoon. By the time Wednesday arrives, he's starting to wonder if it's weird that he's looking forward to it _this_ much. But Shitty and Lardo insisted he needed more human connections, and they were clearly right. It must be good for him.

Bitty lays out the complicated game plan that will allow them to bake four types of cookies, one with frosting, in three to four hours. By now, Jack is comfortable enough in the kitchen that Bitty can just give him directions and trust that he'll do it correctly, which he's a little proud of. He's still not as good at any of it as Bitty, but he likes feeling competent. He likes showing Bitty how competent he is.

They talk as they bake, and somehow their conversation winds up on Heaven. It's not a topic any of the ex-angels _avoids_ , per se, but they don't talk about it much. Jack is finally settling well enough into his human life that he doesn't really want to be reminded of what he's missing, in case it makes him… well, miss it. Bitty admits he feels similarly. Jack opens up a bit about the demonic essence addiction, though he's still not ready to talk about it too much. Bitty tells him a bit about the little girl he saved.

After they've put the last batch in the oven, they flop down into the kitchen chairs and Bitty pulls out his phone. He laughs at something and starts typing.

"What's so funny?" Jack asks. It doesn't occur to him that it might be someone other than Shitty or Lardo texting.

"Oh, um." Bitty blushes. "Just this guy I'm talking to on the dating app. I doubt I'm gonna go out with him, though. He's funny and all, but a little full of himself. I mean, he's no Chad, but still not sure I'm interested."

For once, mention of Bitty's love life doesn't piss Jack off, probably because he's not interested in this guy. Jack's guard is down a bit from everything they've talked about, so before he can think too hard about it he asks, "So… you're officially gay, right? You're only attracted to men?"

Bitty's blush deepens, and he keeps his eyes on his phone as he twirls it in his hands. "Basically, yeah, I think so. Both romantically and sexually. I mean… I don't know that it's a hundred percent. I could see myself dating someone who's nonbinary, or just not… completely male… but I doubt I'll ever be attracted to a woman."

Jack wonders how he knows, but doesn't ask. He doubts Bitty could tell him.

"And you're completely male," Jack says, only sort of making it a question. Bitty has never seemed as unsure of his gender as Jack still is.

Bitty glances at him, then back down, chewing his lip. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course." Jack leans forward, listening intently.

"Even before, in Heaven… I've sort of… identified more with men for a long time now," Bitty says quietly. "It's not quite the same, it's a lot more solid now, here, as a human. But now that I've experienced that, I don't know if I'll stop feeling male once I'm an angel again."

"How?" Jack asks. He's never heard of an angel with a gender, or even one who thought about it. "I mean… before, how did you…"

He's not sure what it is he wants to ask, but Bitty seems to understand. "I don't know, I just… I've spent so much time with humans. I've been so close to them my whole life. I started to realize a few centuries ago, that if I were a human I was pretty sure I'd be a man. I asked a couple other Guardians about it, because I figured we're all around humans so much, it must be normal, but they were just baffled that I was even thinking about it. Said maybe I needed a break. I took one, actually, but it never changed anything. The more I thought about it, the more being a man just made more sense to me than anything else. I don't know what was wrong with me."

"There was nothing wrong with you," Jack says, annoyed at angels he's never met for not reassuring Bittiel. "I assume that doesn't happen often, I mean I've never heard of it before, but it's not… _bad_. Or abnormal or anything. Any more than me as a human _not_ feeling like any gender is abnormal."

Bitty looks at him for a moment. He's chewing his lip again, and the worry in his eyes makes Jack want to keep him away from anyone who would make him feel bad for this, ever again. "You really think that? You know we're not made to have a gender, Jack. It's _not_ normal. There aren't even gendered pronouns in Enochian, for crying out loud. But you don't think it makes me… I don't know… less of an angel? And don't just say what you think I want to hear."

If they were standing, Jack would hug him. But there's a kitchen table between them, so he has to settle for reaching out and putting his hand on Bitty's arm. "Of course not. And I'm saying that because I believe it."

"Yeah?" Bitty doesn't look very reassured.

Jack pauses, thinking about a conversation he had months ago, trying to figure out how to put it into words now. "Did you ever feelashamed of it? In Heaven? It seems like you do now."

Bitty stops to think for a minute. "Not… not exactly. I definitely do now, though, and I don't know that I'm gonna be able to turn that off when I get back."

"This summer," Jack says, "someone was a jerk because I was wearing a skirt. And what they said didn't really upset me, but it did make me feel ashamed, even though I had no reason to be, which I hated. I was talking to Shitty and Lardo about it, and they explained to me that humans are built to feel shame even when it's unnecessary or illogical. Something about how humans evolved and how shame can be about other people's perceptions even if you don't agree with them. Just because you feel ashamed of it now, as a human, I don't think that necessarily mean you'll carry that with you as an angel. You knew, as an angel, that even if it wasn't normal, it wasn't _wrong_ , morally, so you weren't ashamed. Now you've got this human shame convincing you that if the other angels don't agree then it's bad, but when you get back to Heaven you won't have that anymore."

"Maybe," Bitty says. "I kinda hope so. Right now it definitely feels like it would be _wrong_ of me, to be an angel with a gender."

"Let's say you go back and now that you've been a human man, it sticks with you and you're a male angel. Who does that hurt? Who does it even affect, other than you? Hell, if you do feel that way when we get back, I'll add some English to my Enochian so I can call you he/him if you want."

Bitty smiles a little sadly. "We won't be seeing too much of each other once we're back in Heaven, given our jobs, but I appreciate the thought, Jack."

That brings Jack up short. Bitty's right—Jacquariel will go back to working on the Library while Bittiel gets sent back down to earth as a Guardian, and the odds are good that they might never run into each other again.

Thankfully, the timer on the cookies goes off, preventing Jack from getting too maudlin about that particular thought. Bitty jumps up to pull the cookies out, and Jack watches him.

They might never run into each other by chance, he tells himself, but that doesn't mean they'll never see each other again. If they want to stay friends, they can keep in touch. Even if they only see each other once every couple of centuries.

* * *

It was bound to happen eventually. Jack was just hoping it would take longer than this.

Bitty comes home from his next date gushing about the guy he'd gone out with. Mark? Mike? Something. Jack is glad he was about to go to bed anyhow, so he doesn't have to listen to Bitty go on about how Mark-or-Mike was _so_ sweet and _so_ handsome and _so_ polite and _so_ everything.

Of course, this means that Bitty agrees to a second date with him. His first second date with anyone. Jack reads a book in his room while Bitty gets ready for this second date, aggressively not thinking about how this will probably lead to a third date, and a fourth, and a relationship, and soon Bitty will be moving out of the house and Jack will hardly even see him anymore as a human, let alone once they're angels again. He _hates_ Mark-or-Mike and is not looking forward to the first time Bitty has him over and he has to be _nice_ to the guy.

His fuming—er, _reading_ —is interrupted by a knock on his bedroom door. He opens it to find Bitty, looking nervous and gorgeous. His hair is styled the way he sometimes wears it to clubs, but a tiny bit more neatly. Instead of skintight jeans and t-shirt, he's wearing normal khaki pants and a button-down over a tight t-shirt.

"Do I look okay?" he asks, fidgeting with his shirt cuff. He brushes past Jack, coming into the room uninvited to stare at himself in Jack's mirror. "I've gone through about five shirts already, I just don't know, is this color okay on me?"

The color, a dark green, looks amazing on him. Jack's breath catches as he realizes how _beautiful_ Bitty looks.

"You look great," he says. "That color looks… great. On you."

"You sure?"

Jack swallows as he nods. Bitty catches his eye in the mirror, and it's as he stares at Bitty's deep brown eyes that it hits him.

"Oh," he says without thinking.

"What?" Bitty turns to face him.

"Nothing." Jack shakes his head, blinking. "You look great, Bits. Have fun."

Bitty smiles. "Thanks. Don't spend all night in here!"

Jack nods, but closes the bedroom door after Bitty as he breezes back out into the hallway.

Maybe he shouldn't have just let Bitty walk out. Maybe he should stop him, beg him not to go out with Mark-or-Mike-or-wait-maybe-it-was-Matt again.

That would be incredibly selfish, though. It's one thing for Jack to _feel_ selfish things, but he can't let himself act on those feelings. He can't get in the way of this date that Bitty is clearly excited to go on. Even if he understands now why he's been so annoyed at the entire concept of Bitty going on dates.

It isn't Bitty's problem that Jack is in love with him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're really into the fluff!

Once Bitty left for his date, Jack had eventually gone downstairs and allowed Shitty to drag him to see a movie, hoping it would get his mind off of his revelation.

It hadn't.

He went to bed early, before Bitty got home, so he wouldn't have to hear how it went.

Now, the next morning, he's lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still in love with Bitty and still hoping he can avoid hearing how great his date went last night.

So much makes sense now. How desperate he's been to spend time with Bitty—time _alone_ with Bitty, especially. The way he always wants to reach out and touch Bitty's hair. He's not sure when his feelings changed so drastically. Even before Bitty started going on dates, Jack had been annoyed by the thought of him hooking up with other men. Had he been jealous the entire time? He certainly wasn't in love from the start. He must have been attracted to Bitty already on some level. It's not like he'd wanted to have sex with him himself, though—Jack still isn't sure that anything he's feeling is really _sexual_. He wants to kiss Bitty, and hold him close, but anything beyond that is kind of a vague blur.

He finally stops trying to figure it all out and gets up, exercises, and showers. Lardo is eating breakfast when he comes back downstairs, and he joins her. Before he can finish his bowl of cereal, Bitty walks in. Jack keeps his eyes on his food.

"Heyyyyyy, there you are," Lardo says. "You musta got home late last night. Guess it went well with Miguel?"

Miguel, right.

Bitty snorts. Which… doesn't sound like a noise he would make to confirm that his date went well.

"Hang on, I need some coffee in me to tell y'all _this_ story."

"Uh-oh," Lardo says. Jack finally looks up and she exchanges a look with him. They wait for Bitty to get his coffee and some grapes and sit down at the table with them.

"Okay, so it started out fine. We were goin' to see a play at the ART and then a late dinner, right? The play was fine. A little avant-garde, I dunno, but kinda funny, too. And he was bein' real sweet and held my hand on the way to dinner and kissed my cheek and everything." Bitty stops to pop a couple of grapes into his mouth. Jack really hopes he gets to the part that made him snort soon. "And dinner was goin' fine, too, until somehow the topic of religion comes up. Now obviously, that's always gonna be a hard topic for us with humans, right? I mean, none of their religions really gets it right, but most of 'em aren't a hundred percent wrong, either, and honestly I'm not even sure what to do. Do I pretend to believe one over the others? Do I tell the truth and hope nobody asks where my weird beliefs come from?"

"So which did you go with?" Lardo asks.

A mischievous little smile quirks Bitty's lips, and it makes Jack smile a little, too, even though he doesn't know what it's about.

"Well. Turns out Miguel is a bit of a militant atheist. Which fine, whatever, it's not like _we_ even know if there's a God or not, really. But he's the kind who thinks anyone with _any_ kind of religious beliefs is an idiot. Just thinks the whole concept is _so_ absurd and _so_ hilarious. And I tried to be nice about it at first. I was like well, it's not like you can prove you're right any more'n they can, but he went off on some bullshit about scientifically proving God doesn't exist and…" Bitty sighs. "It just got real exhausting real fast, y'know? And he'd been such a nice guy until that, I was so disappointed that he could be so pigheaded and cruel about this one thing."

"I'm sorry," Jack says with a grimace. He may be glad that Bitty won't be seeing this guy again, but he can tell Bitty really is disappointed to find out what this guy is really like.

"What'd you say?" Lardo asks.

"Well." Bitty looks down at his coffee as he stirs it, his face the picture of innocence. "I may have just explained to him, in great detail, how the afterlife actually works. At first he thought I was joking, but after I rambled for about fifteen minutes he was just looking at me like I was crazy. When I finally finished up he was just like… _well, that was oddly specific_." Bitty looks up, right at Jack. Jack struggles to pay attention to his words when his eyes are so brown. "And then I looked him right in the eye and told him, look. I know you think I'm crazy and I know you'll only remember about half of what I just said. But when you die, whether that's tomorrow or seventy years from now, and your Guardian appears to cross you to the other side, you're gonna remember this conversation. And when you get to Heaven and have a look around, you're gonna wonder how the hell I managed to get every detail so right. And it'll bother you for the rest of eternity, but you'll never know the answer for sure, because even if you and I do meet again there, you'll look similar but I'll be completely unrecognizable to you, so you'll never have a chance to ask me. And since we'd already paid by that point I just got up and left."

By the time he's through, Lardo is laughing behind one hand and Jack has the widest grin on his face. "That's amazing," is all he can say. He really wants to say _you're amazing_ and _I didn't realize you had that in you but I think I just fell a little more in love with you_ but he does not. But Bitty blushes, and Jack wonders if maybe he heard it anyhow.

So things didn't work out with Miguel. At least Jack has that going for him. But he knows that Bitty will go on other dates, and eventually one of those will pan out and Bitty will find a boyfriend and Jack will have missed any chance he might have.

He isn't a hundred percent sure that Bitty feels the same way and wants what he wants, but he thinks he does have a chance. He remembers asking Bitty about his sexuality, how he specifically mentioned that he wasn't attracted to women, but not necessarily only to men, either. How he could see himself falling for a nonbinary person, or someone who's "not completely male." Even if he _wasn't_ referring to Jack specifically, it was at least an opening. And the way he blushed at Jack's compliment, the way he looks at Jack sometimes… maybe. There's definitely a chance.

His first instinct is to just sit down with Bitty and ask him. Say, "I have feelings for you, and I'd really like to be in a romantic relationship with you, do you want that?" It would be terrifying, but it would at least result in a definite answer. Jack likes that.

Jack also knows that that's not how humans normally do these things. And Bitty is a lot more like a normal human, especially when it comes to this kind of thing, than he is.

He spends a couple of days thinking it over. And staring at Bitty. Not _just_ staring, of course. They spend as much time together as always, talking and laughing together. Jack's eyes just linger longer when Bitty looks away.

He finally corners Shitty one day when Lardo and Bitty aren't around. He reasons that Shitty has the most dating experience of any of them, _and_ has managed to land himself an ex-angel, so he's probably the one to go to.

"I need some advice."

Shitty puts his feet up on the coffee table and his hands behind his head. "Shoot, Jack-O."

"There's… a guy. That I'm interested in."

Shitty's eyes immediately light up. He sits up straight, his feet coming right back off the table and his hands right back out from behind his head. "Interested in? Like, _interested_ interested, right? Not like, you wanna watch a documentary about him."

Jack snorts. "Yeah. Romantically interested."

"Nice!" Shitty holds his fist out and Jack bumps it with a sigh.

"It's someone I know," Jack says slowly. He's not ready for Shitty to know exactly who it is, because he doesn't entirely trust Shitty not to try to intervene in some way if he finds out it's _Bitty_. "And I think I've got a shot with him. I don't know for sure, though."

"So you want to know how to find out?"

Jack nods. "Part of me wants to just go up to him and ask him, hey, I have feelings for you, do you feel the same way? But I figured I should run that plan past someone with a little more experience with this kind of thing."

"It's a solid approach," Shitty says thoughtfully, "and very you. He might appreciate that. _But_ …"

"But?"

"You don't want this to be about you. You want it to be about _him_. Showing him that you respect and appreciate him and want to make him happy. So, like, even though that's a very Jack way to go about it, you should definitely stop and think about what _he_ would like best."

Jack pauses. "I can't just ask him how he wants me to ask him out."

"Nah, nah," Shitty says. "But think about what you know about him. Is he like you in that way? Would he rather you just get it over with? Or do you think he might be more of a romantic?"

"He…" Jack stops to think. "Probably? I know he watches romantic comedies." He also reads romance novels, but that might be too much of a giveaway. He thinks for a minute about how Bitty has described the dates he's been on, and realizes a pattern. "I know he doesn't tend to ask guys out. He waits for them to ask him."

"Ahhhh," Shitty says, nodding sagely. "So he likes to be pursued. So what you wanna do is feel things out. Give him a chance to fall harder for you _while_ figuring out whether he's falling for you at all. Romance him, make him feel sought-after, but not too obviously, not until you're more sure of where you stand."

Jack nods along, and when Shitty is done talking, he thinks for a moment. "So… I ask him out without asking him out? How do I do that?"

"What do you usually do with this guy? I mean, I'm assuming you met him at work or a volunteer gig, so have you _ever_ hung out with him outside of that?"

"Yeah, I've hung out with him," Jack says, not correcting Shitty's assumption of where he met the guy but not affirming it, either.

"Ever spend time with him one-on-one?"

"Uh, some," Jack hedges. He can't say he bakes with him, obviously. "Not as much as I'd like. Our schedules don't always line up very well."

"Huh. Well, think about that first—either figure out when you _can_ get together with him, or try and rearrange some things so you can. But don't monopolize his time. You can get a little intense, Jacky-boy, I could see you trying to get together every day. Spread it out a little bit, maybe no more than once a week at first. Try and go for some activities that aren't _too_ date-like—no fancy dinners or anything. Things two friends might go do, but that could also be romantic. Like maybe a museum, or if he's not originally from the area maybe some touristy thing."

"Museums, yeah," Jack murmurs.

"A movie might not be bad, but maybe go for like an action flick or something. Two bros don't go to a rom-com together as bros, y'know? That would give it away immediately."

"Right."

"But yeah, anyhow. Make time for him, get him out doing things, see how it goes. Try not to stress about it, okay? If you're already friends with him, focus on that, on having fun as friends. If he doesn't feel the same way, you'll get over it and your friendship will be even stronger after. If he does, it's not like doing fun stuff together will chase him away."

Jack nods as Shitty claps him on the back. "Yeah. Okay. I think I can do that."

* * *

Jack stares at the calendar in his room where he's got all his commitments written down. He pencils in what he knows of Bitty's work schedule. He's disappointed but not shocked to find so little overlap in their free time—he's been disgruntled about how hard it is to find time together for weeks.

He looks at all of his commitments, and a conversation from months ago comes back to him. At the time, his schedule _hadn't_ been burning him out, but he has to admit it has been starting to feel like more of a burden. When he signed up for all of this, he couldn't imagine wanting—or, more accurately, _allowing_ himself to want—to spend his time doing anything but serving mankind. But Lardo and Shitty were right; he needs more than that to be truly happy. Bitty has made him happier than anything else he's found on earth, and maybe it's okay to let some of his other obligations go so he can have a little more happiness. A little more connection.

He makes a couple of phone calls and sends a few emails, and by the time he's finished, he's down to two shifts a week at Alexei's shelter and one at the the food bank. Plus he'll still be helping Bitty bake for the shelter. He knows it's more than a lot of people do, so he tries not to feel guilty for putting himself ahead of some of the people he's helped in the past six months.

He's only human, after all. And, he realizes, he's becoming more okay with that.

* * *

He tries not to pounce on Bitty the moment he comes home from work. Bitty is dancing around the kitchen as usual, singing along to some pop song under his breath as he mixes something with a whisk. Jack stops in the doorway for a moment just to watch him, the way he moves.

After a moment, Bitty glances over to him and flashes a smile. "Jack! I thought I heard you come in! I was just putting together a quiche for lunch, you want some?"

"That sounds great." He comes over to peer into Bitty's bowl. "Anything I can do to help?" He's surprised when Bitty pushes the bowl into his hands.

"Here, beat these eggs a bit more while I roll the crust out so I can blind bake it for a bit. I've got all the veggies and some bacon chopped, once the eggs are beaten and the crust is ready I just gotta dump those in and pour it into the crust."

Jack does as he's told, watching the way the muscles of Bitty's arms move as he rolls out the crust. For the tenth time in the past few days, he can't believe he never noticed how gorgeous he finds Bitty.

Jack helps him clean up while the crust bakes for a few minutes, then once the whole quiche is in the oven, Bitty turns to him. "That's gotta bake for a good 45 minutes, I hope you'll have enough time to eat before you gotta go."

"Oh, uh, yeah," Jack says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "I quit the daycare center."

Bitty's eyes widen. "You did? What happened?"

"Nothing," Jack says quickly. "It was going fine. I just… realized that maybe I am a little overcommitted after all. I quit the downtown shelter, too, and the online stuff I was doing. So I've got more free time in the afternoons now."

Something complicated flits over Bitty's face for a second, but it's replaced by a wide grin before Jack can figure out what it is. "Well, that's great! I might actually get to see you sometimes! We'll still be baking for Alexei's shelter, right?"

"Yeah, I'm still volunteering there and the food bank. I moved my hours around a little, but not much. So, um. I was thinking. Are you free this afternoon?"

Bitty looks flustered, which is nice. "All I was planning to do was find out who won cycle four of America's Next Top Model."

Jack blinks at him for a second. "I don't know what that means, but I'm guessing it's a TV thing. Any chance you'd want to come with me to the art museum instead?"

For a moment, Bitty's only reaction is his eyes widening in surprise. Then a smile slowly creeps across his face, becoming wider by the second. "That sounds wonderful. Which museum were you thinking?"

Jack hasn't actually thought that far. In fact, he'd forgotten that there's more than one art museum in Boston. "Uh. Which do you like best? Or is there one you haven't been to?"

"Well, I've been to the MFA and the ICA, the MFA twice now actually, because when you buy a ticket you get in free if you go again in the next ten days," Bitty says, going over to the fridge to pull out a water bottle. "I haven't made it to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, so we could go there. If you'd rather go to the MFA, though, I'd be up for that, I think they have a new photography exhibition opening. And it's not like I've seen the whole thing yet, anyhow. That place is huge! The Gardner is cheaper, though, so if you're not sure whether an art museum is really your thing we should probably go there." He glances at Jack. "What?"

"Nothing," Jack says, shaking his head. He knows he was staring, probably a little too affectionately, listening to Bitty ramble. "Let's go to the one you haven't been to."

"Sounds good," Bitty says. He takes his phone out and starts tapping on it. "It'll take about a half an hour to get there on the T. Even waiting for the quiche and all, we should have a good three hours there before they close, and I should get back here just in time to get ready for work."

"Perfect," Jack says.

"C'mon," Bitty says, grabbing his arm. "Come watch some trash TV with me until it's time to go."

Jack has to admit he's somewhat intrigued by the show Bitty makes him watch. It's got the usual reality TV bullshit, showing the competitors being catty behind the scenes while the cameras give them no privacy, but the actual competition is actually sort of interesting. He hadn't really thought about modeling as something that takes skill, but it's clear that some of the women are better at it than others, and he's especially interested in the photography itself, how different the finished photo can look from the way the shoot is filmed for the show.

On the train, Jack resists the urge to press right up against Bitty, but Bitty sits close enough that he doesn't really have to.

"So, I've been thinking," Bitty says, quiet and hesitant, once the train is moving.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe—maybe I should go to culinary school. Y'know? There are a bunch of 'em in the Boston area, I could get some kind of pastry certificate or degree. I don't know for sure what I'd wanna do with it. Bakery hours are so early, but maybe I'd have a shot at being a pastry chef doing the desserts at some fancy restaurant? At the very least, it'd give my YouTube videos a little more legitimacy, y'know? That first one's doing okay, but I've had people in the comments asking how long I've been doing this, and they're asking because they're impressed—I think—but I feel like if I say oh I just started baking six months ago then I sound like I don't know what I'm doing even if the video itself is good. I can't really say, 'I've only had this body for a few months but it seemed to know what it was doing already.' But if I had some kind of official training, that'd make it more trustworthy, y'know?"

He finally pauses, looking up at Jack instead of down at his hands, which he's been twisting together the whole time he talks.

"It sounds perfect for you," Jack says with a shrug.

Bitty flinches a little. "You don't think it's… well… kind of a stupid thing to do with my life? A waste of money?"

"Bits." Jack reaches out and puts his large hand over Bitty's small, tangled fingers. He doesn't miss the way Bitty's breathing hitches when he does. "I'm sorry I was such an ass about everything at first. I didn't want to be here, and more than anything, I didn't want to not be an angel, and I wasn't dealing well with any of it. I couldn't accept that I had to live my human life like a human, not an angel. You're not stupid for wanting to do something you love for a career. People want good food—people _need_ good food to be happy, even if it's not good in excess. If you can give them that and make yourself happy, that's a good life. For a human," he can't help adding with a smirk. Bitty rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but then looks back up at Jack with a gentle smile.

"Thanks, Jack. I mean, it's not like you were wrong about me. I did kind of… take things to an extreme at first. There's just so much about human life I've always wanted to experience, but I was focusing on just a few of those things. The things that made me feel good _immediately_. Things like… building a career, helping people, making connections, friendships…" He looks away, down at their hands, and there's a light blush on his cheeks as he continues. "Finding someone to fall in love with, who can love you back. Those things require a little delayed gratification, y'know? It's easy to make a pie and eat it. It's harder to teach someone else to make it, or to make ten of 'em to give away. Just like it's easier to find some guy in a club and go off to some dark corner than it is to sit through terrible dates before you find someone you actually connect with."

"But it's worth it?" Jack asks quietly.

Bitty looks back up at him shyly. "Yeah. It's worth it."

The train pulls into Park Street then, and they have to get up to transfer to the Green Line. They keep the conversation lighter after they transfer, with Bitty rambling about different culinary programs he's looked at.

The museum is beautiful. Jack lets Bitty take the lead; he's clearly looked at a map and knows where he wants to go. There's an audio tour online, and Jack shares Bitty's earbuds to listen to a few snippets about the history of the building and the collection as they go from room to room. Bitty finally announces that it's definitely more Jack's thing than his, takes Jack's phone to navigate it to the audio downloads, and hands over his earbuds. Jack tries to protest, but Bitty is smiling and clearly _wants_ him to keep listening without him, so he finally does.

Even though there's snow on the ground outside, the courtyard is a riot of color, with subtropical flowers spilling out over every surface. Bitty's face glows with awe as they step into it, and Jack scrambles to find the camera on his phone. He's never used it before, but he figures out how to take a picture fairly quickly. Unfortunately, it makes a loud shutter click noise, which draws Bitty's attention. He looks over, surprised, then just laughs and shakes his head.

"Give me that," he says fondly, putting out a hand for Jack's phone. "You're allowed to take pictures here, but let's make sure your flash is off and silence it so it's not making that ridiculous noise…" He goes through and adjusts some settings before giving it back to Jack. "There. Gosh, there are so many beautiful things in here, I don't think you can take a bad photo."

Jack silently agrees, and takes another picture of Bitty, sniffing at a delicate purple blossom.

Bitty chatters about everything they saw all the way home. Jack breaks in every once in a while with facts he learned from the audio tour, but mostly lets him ramble. They look at the photos on both of their phones, and if Bitty notices that he's in at least 75% of Jack's photos he doesn't mention it. Jack notices that he's in some of Bitty's, though not nearly as many.

Bitty is still talking as they walk in the door, but as soon as he takes his coat off, he pulls out his phone and looks at the time.

"Oh, gosh, I gotta get going. I've got just enough time to change and get to work." He looks up at Jack with a small smile. "Thanks for going with me, Jack, that was a lot of fun."

"You're the one who agreed to go with me," Jack points out. "Thank _you_."

Bitty flashes him one last smile before taking off up the stairs.

When Jack saunters into the living room, only Lardo is there, scrolling on her phone. "Shitty working late?" he asks.

Lardo nods, not looking up. "Late late. He probably won't be home 'til past ten. Looks like you and me are on our own for dinner tonight." She finally looks up. "Thai?"

"Sure," Jack says.

Bitty rushes back down the stairs, now wearing his white button-down and black pants for work. "Bye, guys!" He pauses for a second to look at Jack. "Thanks again." And he's out the door before Jack can respond.

"So what'd you two get up to today?" Lardo asks, putting her phone away.

"Went to a museum," Jack says. He suddenly realizes that it's very lucky that Shitty had to work late, because if he knew that Jack and Bitty had gone to a museum mere days after Shitty suggested exactly that, it would be obvious who Jack was interested in. "The Gardner?"

"Nice," Lardo says. "Love that place. Saw her build it. Food should be here in twenty minutes." She pauses. "It's cool to be able to just say that, y'know? I spent seven years down here having to police everything I said around everyone, trying not to give anything away. It's not like I even want to go on about it or anything, it's just nice to not have to stop myself from saying it."

Jack nods and sits down next to her as she picks up the remote control.

* * *

Jack doesn't think it's his imagination that Bitty is smiling at him more and blushing more when he smiles back over the next few days. He's sure they're both finding more excuses to touch—nothing major, just a hand on the arm here, brushing past each other there. They bake together a couple of times, though Shitty or Lardo is always around when they do. They have a couple of free afternoons together a week now, but Jack isn't sure he should press for another not-quite-date just yet. Shitty said no more than once a week. So they mostly spend them watching TV or reading together.

The following weekend, though, Lardo has some art thing in New York City, so she and Shitty will be gone all weekend. Jack realizes he's a little nervous to have _that_ much time alone with Bitty—if he were sure where they stand, if they were in a relationship, it'd be great, but he doesn't want to seem pushy. He looks at his calendar, though, and realizes that Bitty works both Friday and Saturday nights and he works Sunday morning, so really they just have most of Saturday daytime and Sunday afternoon, anyhow. That's not that much.

"Hey, I know you work in the evening, but are you doing anything Saturday during the day?" he asks Bitty as they eat lunch on Thursday. He figures it'd be a good idea to plan ahead this time, just in case Bitty _does_ find something to do without him.

"I don't think so, especially with Lardo and Shitty gone. Why? You got an idea?" His smile says that he hopes Jack does have an idea, and it's infectious.

"Let's go ice skating," Jack says, sounding more excited to his own ears than he expected. "There's a rink in Boston Commons in the winter."

Bitty's eyes light up, much to his relief. "Oh! That's a great idea! I've seen the rink from a distance, but I've never been. Oh lord, do you think these bodies even know how to skate?"

Jack shrugs. "We can learn," he says as he takes a bite of his sandwich to avoid looking too pleased with himself.

Jack hadn't realized just how excited Bitty would be to go ice skating. He chatters about it all through lunch, and as soon as Lardo and Shitty come home, he nearly yells, "Guess what we're gonna do Saturday?" and proceeds to tell them how much he's wanted to try ice skating but just somehow never got around to it. He doesn't mention that it was Jack's idea, which is a bit of a relief since it keeps Shitty in the dark for just a bit longer. Jack is sure that Shitty will figure it out on his own one of these days, but the longer he can go without interference and teasing, the better.

Saturday morning, Jack still rises before Bitty, but Bitty is up earlier than usual. Instead of dragging himself wearily into the kitchen as he often does, he's showered and dressed by the time he bounds downstairs, nearly bouncing his way to the coffee pot.

"You sure you need any of that?" Jack asks, amused.

"Oh, hush." Bitty throws him a mock glare. "I'm not actually as awake as I look. I'm just so excited, but my brain is trying to shut down, so I _need_ some caffeine or I won't make it onto the ice. What time does it open?"

"Ten," Jack says. "But we've got all day, there's no rush. I doubt either of us will be able to skate for seven hours straight."

"I suppose not," Bitty says with an exaggerated sigh. "But if we don't leave as soon as we're both ready, I'm just gonna buzz around here full of nervous energy with nowhere to put it, so unless you wanna deal with that, let's not drag our feet too much."

Jack looks down at the jogging clothes he's still in. "I'll go change."

They wind up leaving the house just before ten, Bitty practically skipping the whole way to the T station. Jack can't stop smiling and laughing, a little bit in awe that he's managed to make Bitty this happy. It's amazing how a few months ago, he didn't care about making friends or having fun at all, and now he thinks he'd quit everything else if he could just spend all day, every day, making Bitty this happy. He wouldn't, of course, not really, but he feels like he could and not regret it.

The walk from the T to the ice rink isn't that long, but Bitty's cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink from the cold by the time they get there. He's bundled up—a long-sleeved shirt and sweater, his puffy winter coat, a thick scarf, a hat, and bulky mittens. Jack is wearing a coat, a hat, and gloves, but the coat isn't zipped up all the way and the gloves are fairly thin. He's amused that Bitty is still cold—it's only a few degrees below freezing—and he teases Bitty about it the whole way across the Commons.

They get their skate rentals and sit down to change into them.

"This feels right," Bitty murmurs as he laces up his skate. "Something about this feels right."

Jack agrees, but he's not sure what else to say about it, so he just says "Yeah."

They approach the little doorway onto the ice with apprehension, watching some people whiz by while others wobble and grab at each other.

"I'd hang onto you," Bitty says, "but if neither of us can skate we'd just both go down. I mean, you're Canadian, I bet you'll be fine, but still. I'm probably better off grabbing the rail."

The moment Jack steps onto the ice, he knows it's not going to be a problem. He knows exactly what to do as he pushes off. His body stays balanced on its own, his feet move just how they need to. He looks behind him and sees the look of amazement on Bitty's face as he, too, moves naturally on the ice.

Jack laughs and tugs on Bitty's arm. "What happened to grabbing the rail?"

"This is so easy!" They start moving along with the crowd, around the rink. "I feel like I've been doing this my whole life!"

"Me, too," Jack says. He turns around and skates backwards in front of Bitty, just to see if he can—he can, without even thinking about it.

"Showoff," Bitty says, but his grin is fond. "C'mon, I know this is easy, but let's not try anything crazy til we're warmed up a little, okay? After a couple laps around we can find out what we can really do."

They do two slow, easy laps, though they're gaining speed by the end of the second. The moment they pass by the door they came in, Bitty looks at Jack with a gleam in his eye. "Race you this lap, loser buys hot cocoa!" He takes off before Jack has even processed what he said.

He's fast. Jack is fast, too, it turns out. Not only that, but neither of them has any trouble avoiding the slower skaters around them, weaving between them without bumping into anyone or even coming close.

Unsurprisingly, Bitty wins the race. He slows down as soon as he passes the door again, cheering for himself.

"You had a head start," Jack says, but there's no heat in it.

"You keep telling yourself that, Mr. Zimmermann," Bitty says, nose in the air.

They go around a couple more times, then Bitty says, "I wanna try some things," and suddenly he's broken away from Jack, toward the center of the rink.

Jack watches in amazement as Bitty reaches the center and then starts to spin, faster and faster. He stops himself suddenly, without faltering. He skates a few more feet, then drops into another spin, this time nearly sitting on the ice with one leg held out in front of him. Then he bends the leg back in as he stands, again spinning faster as he brings his hands up above his head. It's mesmerizing, and Jack is pretty sure it would be even if he didn't find most things Bitty does mesmerizing.

He skates over as Bitty stops again. "Wow, Bits. I don't think I can do that."

Bitty looks up at him with bright eyes. "Watch!"

He skates away, then suddenly throws himself into the air, twisting in midair before coming down. He wobbles a bit as he lands, but Jack is still amazed. He claps as Bitty returns to him.

"Holy crap," he says. "Is there anything you can't do on the ice?"

"I think that's about my limit for jumps," Bitty says. "Maybe with more practice I could do a double, but not right now. The spins, I dunno, if I weren't wearing jeans I might be able to do something fancier."

Jack just shakes his head in amazement. "I cannot do any of that. No way."

"How do you know unless you try?" Bitty says with a sly grin.

"Probably the same way you know you can't do a double, whatever that is," Jack retorts. He skates a few feet, but when he thinks about doing a spin he has no idea what to do. He stops and shakes his head. "Nope. Skating comes naturally, I don't even have to think about it, but I don't even know where to start with that stuff."

He watches Bitty do a few more spins and jumps, skating slowly around him but not quite rejoining the main crowd of skaters. Eventually Bitty gives it up to come skate with him again, and they go around a few more times until Bitty pulls his scarf over his face.

"Is it time for me to buy you that hot cocoa?" Jack asks, poking Bitty in the side.

Bitty rolls his eyes and scoots away from Jack's poke, but then heads toward the door. "Yes, I believe it is."

Jack buys two cocoas at the little cafe window and they sit down on a bench to watch the other skaters as they drink. Jack only sees one person attempt anything as fancy as what Bitty was doing, a teenage girl who seems better dressed for flexibility.

They point out cute kids to each other as they finish off the hot cocoa. Finally, after they've both been sitting there with empty cups for a few minutes, Bitty stands up and takes Jack's cup.

"Well, I'm recovered a bit. Lemme throw these away and let's get back out there!"

They skate for another hour, trying different things. Jack can't do fancy tricks, but he can change direction on a dime, which seems like a lot more than most of the people there can do. He wonders what other skills this body has that he hasn't stumbled on yet.

As they approach the doorway again, he nudges Bitty. "One more race before we go? From the entrance again?"

"You're on," Bitty says, a competitive edge to the smile he gives Jack.

This time, they start at the same time, but Bitty still pulls ahead early. Jack nearly gets caught up at the first turn, but he has to maneuver around a group of people all holding hands and Bitty regains his lead. Finally, as Bitty rounds the last turn, Jack cuts the corner, headed right for him—not where he is, but where he will be when Jack gets there, and Jack doesn't miss how easy it is for him to do that calculation.

Bitty doesn't see him coming until the last second, not enough time for him to get out of the way. Jack doesn't run into him, exactly—just grabs him and pulls him with him toward the wall. They're both laughing as they run into it, slowed down enough by then that it doesn't hurt.

"Jack Zimmermann, you are a dirty cheat!" Bitty exclaims through his laughter. He smacks Jack's chest and looks up at him, still laughing.

Jack has a hand on each of Bitty's arms, and now Bitty's hand is resting on his chest, and they're closer than Jack can remember them ever being. Their laughter finally fades, but they're still staring at each other, and Jack realizes that he'll never find a more perfect moment to kiss him.

He glances at Bitty's mouth—when there's a sharp jerk on the hem of Jack's jacket. He looks down to find a small child, maybe five years old, who has suddenly clung to him to keep from falling. He instinctively lets go of Bitty to steady the little boy and get him upright again.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," a woman says from behind Jack. She reaches out and takes the little boy's hands. "Max, you can't just grab onto strangers! That's why I told you to stay close to me!" She looks up at Jack. "I'm sorry, thank you so much for helping him."

"No problem," Jack says. He ruffles the boy's hair. "Don't let your mom get lost, Max, she needs your help if she falls."

"Bye!" Max says as his mom skates him away, giving Jack a last smile over her shoulder as she goes.

Jack turns back to Bitty, who is watching Max go with a smile on his face. Unfortunately, it's clear the moment has passed, but Jack is more confident than ever that he'll find another moment. Maybe not quite so perfect, but some kind of moment.

"Let's get home," Bitty says, pushing Jack toward the gate. "I've been wanting to try my hand at homemade marshmallows, and now I feel like they'd be the perfect thing to go in hot cocoa."


	9. Chapter 9

When Lardo and Shitty get home Sunday evening, Bitty can't stop talking about ice skating. Jack doesn't have to add much; he just watches Bitty go on about it and tries not to look too hopelessly in love.

By the time they'd gotten home, they'd had time to bake something and then it was time for Bitty to head to work. When Jack got home from work on Sunday, they'd hung out and watched more of the model show (Jack thought Lisa was robbed, but he has to admit that Nicole was good). Jack hadn't ever felt like the moment was right again to kiss Bitty, but they'd had a lot of fun together. He's not in a rush.

He's sure that Shitty will realize that ice skating is the kind of potentially-romantic thing he would take a potential-date to do, and braces for knowing looks or even teasing. Shitty, however, seems to be completely distracted by one thing.

"Wait, so you're both good at ice skating? Like, really good?"

"Apparently," Bitty says, and Jack nods. Shitty's face lights up with a manic gleam that Jack has learned to be wary of. It seems that Bitty has, too, because his eyes immediately narrow. "Why?"

"Brah, Chow and I have been trying to scrape together a beer league hockey team—no douchebags allowed—for years now. It seems like no matter what we do, we're always a couple guys short. This is perfect! I think team registration just opened for the spring, I'll have to see who else is in—I bet we can get it going this time!"

"Shits," Lardo says in her 'calming Shitty the fuck down' voice, "you think maybe you should _ask_ if they're interested in playing hockey first?"

Shitty turns to them. "How 'bout it?"

Jack and Bitty look at each other. Jack finally shrugs. "I have no idea if I'd be any good, but sure, I can try. All I'm promising is that I know how to skate."

"I can do figure skating stuff," Bitty says slowly. "I dunno if that's gonna translate to hockey."

Shitty wraps one arm around each of their shoulders and leans in conspiratorily. "Look, we're talking D-League hockey here. You know I played in college, and so did Chow and a couple of the others, but half the guys we've got have never picked up a stick. They're like you guys, they know how to skate and we're assuming they can figure the rest out as we go. You've watched a few NHL games with me, you've got the basic idea, right? And we'll teach you the rules and shit. Nobody's expecting us to _win_ here. It's just for shits and giggles."

"You're planning to get _Jack_ involved in a sport and you don't expect him to play to win?" Bitty says, but the smirk on his face as he says it is playful.

"I let you win those races at the rink," Jack can't help saying.

Bitty gasps and smacks him on the arm. "You did not! You know full well I was just faster than you."

"He was," Jack admits to Shitty.

"So are you guys in?"

They look at each other again. This time Bitty shrugs.

"Sure," they both say.

"Woohoo!" Shitty slaps them both on the back and keeps crowing as he runs off to text Chris Chow.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lardo tells them, watching Shitty leave. "Don't let him guilt you into it. And if you try it and you aren't having fun, don't feel bad about quitting."

"We're supposed to be meeting people, right?" Jack says. "Expanding our social network? Seems like as good a way as any."

"I guess so," Lardo admits. "But again, don't let him guilt you if you don't like it."

* * *

Jack knows he shouldn't push for another "date" just yet, but it's getting harder and harder not to. Maybe he should just go ahead and ask Bitty how he feels, but now that they've done a couple of potentially-romantic things together he has to admit he's enjoying it. It's a little agonizing, not quite knowing, wondering about every look and every touch… but it's kind of fun, too. Bitty mentioned delayed gratification before, and Jack wonders if maybe sometimes delaying it, or stretching it out at least, makes it even better.

Since the game night, he's started having actual conversations with Alexei when he goes in to the shelter, and Tuesday is no exception. Jack tells him about the ice skating and the hockey, and is taken aback by his enthusiasm. It turns out that Alexei came to the US to play on an AHL team, but an injury cut his hockey career short. He assures Jack that he can still play for fun, and Jack has to promise to ask Shitty if there's room on the team for one more.

Just before it's time to go, Alexei pokes his head in. "I'm go see new Marvel movie with Little B tomorrow night. You want come?"

Jack blinks. "Little… you mean Bitty?"

Alexei smiles. "Yes! Little B!"

It takes Jack a second to process what Alexei asked him now that he understands what it means. "I thought he works Wednesday nights."

"He just switch to cover someone's lunch shift," Alexei says, holding up his phone. "So free for movie!"

"Oh." Jack's pushes down his first instinct, which is jealousy at the thought that Bitty had planned to go somewhere alone with Alexei. But he doesn't think Alexei would invite him if he didn't really want him there. But what if Bitty had meant it as a date and Alexei just doesn't realize it? He shouldn't assume that, though—in fact, he has no reason to think that at all, other than the fact that his brain always seems to jump to the worst-case scenario. "Um, sure, I guess. Why not?" He pauses. "I didn't even know you two texted each other," he adds cautiously. It can't hurt to feel out how close they are.

"Oh, no, I follow on Twitter. We talk in DMs."

"What's Twitter?" Jack asks. It doesn't seem like that odd a question, but Alexei just laughs.

"I tell him you're in!"

Jack pulls out his own phone and texts Bitty. For months, he'd only used it when he needed to, but since they started getting closer he and Bitty have texted more and more. It's nice, since he can't spend as much time with him as he'd like. Now he wants to make absolutely sure he's not stepping in where he's not welcome.

 **Jack** : Is it ok if I come to the movie with you and Alexei tomorrow?

 **Bitty** : Of course! I told him to ask you, since you were right there.

Jack smiles down at his phone as that nervous voice in his mind finally admits defeat.

 **Bitty** : You guys can swing by and pick me up on the way, I should be finishing up just in time. Jason has a doctor's appointment he can't move, so I told him I'd switch and do lunch for him.

 **Jack** : Do you think I'll like it? I have no idea what a "Marvel movie" even is.

 **Bitty** : It's harmless action superhero fluff, mostly. It's nothing deep, but you'll probably enjoy it at least a bit. Can't tell unless you try, though, can you?

 **Jack** : True.

* * *

When Alexei rings the doorbell the next evening, Shitty gets there before Jack.

"Hey! Shitty! I'm come get Zimmboni for movie!"

"Zimm… boni?"

Jack sighs as he pulls his coat off the hanger, but Alexei beats him to an explanation.

"We are making hockey team, yes? He's need hockey nickname! You and Little B already have. Now we are calling Jack Zimmboni!"

" _Do not_ ," Jack warns Shitty with a glare.

"My team before call me Tater," Alexei goes on as if Jack hadn't spoken. "I leave hockey, get job, nickname wear off, you know? But now you call me Tater, too!" He slaps Shitty on the back as he says this.

"Sounds like a plan, Tater," Shitty says, grinning.

"I'm still Jack," Jack reminds him, trying to glare even harder.

"Of course," Shitty says. There's something sly about his expression as he looks from Jack to Alexei and back. "I'll leave that name just for Tater to call you. I notice you're not threatening _him_ with dismemberment over it."

"I tried to tell him not to," Jack says weakly. It's true, but Alexei is apparently extremely stubborn. Jack is learning things about his new friends every day.

"So what movie are you kids going to see tonight?" Shitty asks, eyebrows raised for some reason.

"Something… superheroes? I forget," Jack admits.

"New Spider-Man," Alexei says. "You want come?"

Shitty shakes his head quickly. "No, no, no, I couldn't intrude. You have fun, now, and Tater, I'll let you know when I have the team info for you!"

Alexei is about to say something else about the hockey team, but Jack pulls him out the door. If he doesn't extract them, they won't arrive to pick up Bitty until the movie is over.

Once they do get Bitty, he and Alexei chatter away the whole way to the theater. Bitty is in the middle of the three of them, and even though he's mostly looking at Alexei, Jack doesn't feel ignored. Bitty glances over now and then, like he's checking on him. Jack is glad he doesn't have to try and carry the conversation; he splits his attention between finding the theater and looking at Bitty.

The movie is fine. Alexei and Bitty clearly enjoy it more than Jack, but he kind of expected that. It's funny in parts, and has a coherent plot at least, even if some of the action sequences are too long. Over the course of the movie, Bitty seems to scoot a little closer to Jack, so their shoulders and legs are touching. But there's an armrest between them, which makes it awkward, and Jack has no idea if Bitty would appreciate more obvious touching like an arm around his shoulders with Alexei right there or not.

When they get out of the theater, for a moment they all stand there, unclear if they're doing anything else or not. But Alexei quickly fixes that.

"Okay, I'm need to get home to pack. I'm taking a couple days off work, take Vanessa up to ski lodge in Vermont for weekend! Have to drive down to Providence first thing tomorrow morning to pick her up."

"Vanessa?" Jack asks. Alexei beams, as though he'd been hoping one of them would ask that.

"New girlfriend!" He proudly announces. "Beautiful woman, works for news station down in Providence. We are just dating a few weeks now, but is her birthday and I need to impress, you know?"

"Aw, good for you, Tater!" Apparently Bitty has gotten on the nickname train. Jack just hopes he doesn't try to call him Zimmboni. "Have fun! I hope we get to meet her sometime."

"I'm hope, too! See you later!"

They wave goodbye as he takes off toward the T station, then look at each other. Bitty blushes, and Jack thinks he might, too. It was a fairly early movie, so he doesn't have to get to bed just yet, even with work in the morning.

"You know," Bitty says, breaking off eye contact to look down the street. "There's a little place that I think is just around the corner there that I've been meaning to try. They're supposed to have the most _amazing_ hot chocolate."

Jack smirks. "Do you drink anything else in the winter?"

Bitty just rolls his eyes. "That stuff we had at the ice rink was hot _cocoa_ , which means it was made with just the cocoa powder. Cheap cocoa, at that—the kind you just add water to. This place has _real_ hot chocolate. As in, they take hot milk and melt actual chocolate into it, the kind you eat. It's supposed to be divine."

"Divine?" Jack asks, elbowing Bitty. "I guess we'd be the best judges of that, eh?"

"Har har," Bitty says, but takes Jack's arm to pull him in the direction he'd been looking. "Come on, you."

Bitty keeps his hand around Jack's arm, and Jack tucks it in close, so that it's not just Bitty pulling him anymore, but the two of them walking arm-in-arm. Bitty leans into Jack's side and Jack can see him grinning even though he's looking straight ahead.

The hot chocolate is _much_ richer than the cocoa at the rink, even richer than the cocoa Bitty makes at home. Jack gets the Mexican, which has cinnamon and a little cayenne in it, while Bitty opts for a shot of peppermint Schnapps in his.

They sit at a tiny table where their knees can't help but touch, right next to the window. They talk about the movie and about the people walking past as they slowly drain their mugs. Jack's not sure how, but they manage to spend most of an hour in there, and they don't leave until it looks like the cashier is starting to close up.

They head back toward the T, walking close together. Bitty keeps mentioning how cold the wind is and pressing into Jack's arm—Jack is sure he's very cold, but has to wonder if he's using it as an excuse to get closer. Halfway there, when Bitty makes a disgusted noise at another sharp breeze and pulls his scarf up over his nose, Jack wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Better?" he murmurs.

Bitty looks up at Jack through his lashes. The bottom half of his face is still covered, but Jack is pretty sure that even if the wind is making his cheeks a little pink, he's also blushing. "Better," he says softly, then looks straight ahead again.

Bitty does not complain about the cold again the rest of the way to the station, though he continues to press himself close to Jack's side. It feels right, and it occurs to Jack that he'd really love to be as close to Bitty as physically possible.

They have to separate to go through the turnstiles, and since Bitty doesn't press up against him once they're inside, Jack doesn't try to put an arm around him again.

They're nearly home when the door to their train car opens and Shruti and Ford walk in. Jack and Ford say hi, but Shruti and Bitty shriek at each other about why the other isn't at work, and where are they going, and did they hear what Mark (a cook, from the sounds of it) said to Allison (a… hostess?) after work the other night? Ford kind of shrugs at Jack, and they just stand there, listening politely.

"We're headed to this new bar," Shruti eventually says. "You guys should come!"

Bitty's eyes light up, but Jack immediately shakes his head. Ford, however, answers for him. "I sure as hell don't work tomorrow morning, which means Jack probably does."

"Yeah, I need to get to bed," Jack says. He turns to Bitty. "You should go, though. You wouldn't go to bed for a couple more hours, anyhow."

Bitty bites his lip, and Jack can see his desire to go out warring with his guilt over leaving Jack.

"Go," Jack insists. "You know you want to. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You sure you don't mind?" Bitty asks. "I don't want to abandon you."

Jack smiles. "They're getting off at the same stop as us. We live three blocks from the station. You're abandoning me less than two minutes before we'd get home anyhow. I can deal with it."

"I bet there'll be cute guys there," Shruti says in a voice clearly meant to entice Bitty. Jack swallows and looks away. Bitty hasn't gone on a date since Miguel, but while jealousy is burning in Jack's stomach he knows he can't exactly tell Bitty not to go flirt with—maybe even sleep with—cute guys, not when Jack's barely gotten up the courage to put his arm around him.

"Oh, Lord, I'm not looking to pull tonight," Bitty says, his tone airy in a way that Jack recognizes as a facade. "There's no harm in looking, but please don't go trying to get any phone numbers for me."

Jack looks up again, and Bitty flashes him a small smile as the train comes to a stop. Ford, he notices, is looking at him with one eyebrow raised and a knowing smile on her face, but Shruti hasn't noticed anything.

They get off the train, and just outside the station prepare to go separate ways. After saying goodbye to Ford and Shruti, Jack turns to Bitty, who steps a little closer to him. Jack reaches out and runs a hand up and down his arm.

"Good night, Bits. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, Jack," Bitty says. Jack thinks he sees the love he knows is in his own eyes reflected back at him.

When he gets home, Shitty and Lardo are watching a movie in the living room. Jack is planning to just head upstairs and go straight to bed, but Shitty pauses the movie.

"How'd it go?" he calls, and Jack stops in the hallway halfway to the stairs. He tries to school the goofily-in-love grin he knows he had on his face when he walked in the door.

"Um… fine?" he says once his face is under control. He's not sure how a movie is supposed to "go".

"You have fun at the movie?" Shitty asks.

"Yes?" Jack says slowly. "It was an okay movie. Not terrible, but I don't think that's exactly my favorite genre."

Shitty sighs loudly. "Is that all you've got to say?" he asks, but before Jack can ask what else he's supposed to say, Lardo speaks up.

"Leave him alone, Shits. You can interrogate him some other time."

Jack stands at the foot of the stairs, confused. Part of him wonders if Shitty somehow knows about the hot chocolate and walking with his arm around Bitty and everything, but that makes no sense. He couldn't have gotten all that from Jack smiling, could he? He doubts Bitty _texted_ Shitty about it or anything. Unless Bitty is also asking Shitty for dating advice? But if Shitty knows Jack is talking about Bitty, why would he be so cryptic about it?

Jack must stand there trying to figure this out for too long, because Shitty's face pops around the corner of the doorway. "Bro, you okay? Did this break you?"

Jack's face twists in confusion. Now he really doesn't know what's going on. "No? I gotta work in the morning, Shitty. I'm heading to bed."

Shitty rolls his eyes, but pulls his head back in. "Good night," he calls, and Lardo calls out good night too.

"Night," Jack says, and heads up the stairs, shaking his head. He puts that strange conversation out of his mind as soon as he gets to his bedroom, though, because he'd much rather think about the way Bitty looked at him tonight.

* * *

Unfortunately, Jack and Bitty's schedules don't line up at all the next day, so they only see each other at lunch time. Lardo is there, too, so Jack can't exactly say or do whatever it is he might want to say or do. He's not quite sure what that is yet. He should figure that out before he makes a fool of himself.

He does catch Bitty staring at him once, though, which is nice.

Friday isn't a whole lot better, because Shitty, much to Jack's annoyance, decides that the fresh four inches of snow they got overnight is the perfect excuse to work from home. Jack decides that, if Shitty and Lardo don't happen to give them a few hours alone this weekend, he'll find an excuse to get Bitty alone—ask him to go get coffee, maybe. Something quiet and unobtrusive so their housemates don't notice and try to come along. He's pretty sure that if he can get Bitty alone for even an hour, things have progressed enough that taking the direct approach will work.

Late that afternoon, Bitty is rushing around the kitchen, grabbing some fruit and a granola bar to eat on the way to work, while Jack and Shitty are pulling out leftovers to heat up so they can have dinner ready when Lardo gets home.

Shitty apparently thinks that this, of all times, is the perfect opportunity for a heart-to-heart.

"So," he says not-quite-casually as he turns on the oven to reheat a casserole. "How are things going in the romance department, Jackie?"

Jack freezes. He glances at Bitty, who is by the fruit bowl. Bitty is also frozen.

"What?" Bitty says, a little frantically. He glances from Shitty to Jack, and when they make eye contact, Jack looks away to glare at Shitty.

" _Shits_ ," he says, but Shitty doesn't seem to notice the warning either in his tone or his glare, given the way he turns to Bitty, waggling his eyebrows.

"You know, Jack here has a special someone he's trying to woo," Shitty says. "And I have a _feeling_ it's been going well." Jack's brain blanks out, because he's ninety percent sure this means that Shitty _doesn't_ know it's Bitty, which means who knows what else he might say. Jack chances a look at Bitty, but his face is indecipherable. It's probably taking him a second to fully process what Shitty said.

"Shitty, now is _not_ the time," Jack growls. "I told you that in _private_."

Shitty's eyes widen as he seems to realize that maybe what he just said wasn't okay.

"Shit, sorry," he says. "I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret! We're all so up in each other's business around here." He lowers his voice a little, as though he can put this genie back in its bottle. "It is going well, right?"

"It—I—" Jack doesn't really want to make assumptions about how it's going, especially with Bitty _right there_ , and he's sure that Bitty _has_ to have figured out what this is about by now. Starting to panic a little, he glances over at Bitty. Bitty is looking back at him, but not at all like he was last night. He looks startled, like he's just been slapped in the face. Jack has no idea what to make of that. "Shitty, I'm not talking about this right now."

Bitty suddenly grabs an apple from the fruit basket. "I better get running or I'll be late," he says, talking faster than usual. By the time he says "See you guys later!" he's out of the kitchen.

Jack looks after him, confused. Bitty _was_ about to leave for work, so it's not that strange that he ran off. That voice in Jack's brain, the one that always jumps to the worst case scenario, is pretty sure that the conversation chased him away, but Jack has learned not to trust that voice. It could be right sometimes, though. If Bitty did realize it was him that Shitty was talking about, maybe he just found it embarrassing. Especially since he didn't know Shitty knew anything about it.

Jack thinks about texting him to ask, but that would mean admitting it _was_ about him, and that's something Jack would really like to do in person, in private.

Shitty is saying something, but Jack has no idea what. He sighs and runs a hand over his face.

"Shits, I don't want to talk about it, okay? If I have something to tell you, I will tell you."

"Okay," Shitty says doubtfully. "Sorry, bro, I really didn't realize it was a secret. You can trust Bitty, though, you know that, don't worry. I won't bring it up again."

Jack isn't really sure what just happened, but he doesn't think Shitty will be any help figuring it out. He doesn't think he'll figure it out until he can talk to Bitty. So he just says okay and goes back to getting dinner ready.

* * *

He assumes he'll find some moment to get Bitty alone over the weekend, but he doesn't. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Bitty is actively avoiding him.

"You wanna go to the grocery store with me?" he asks Sunday afternoon. Bitty is on his laptop, but he looked like was just reading instead of actively doing anything on it. Shitty and Lardo are on theirs, too, but they both seem busier.

Bitty looks up at him, surprised. For a second he looks like a cornered animal, and Jack steps back. "No!" he finally says. "That's fine. Just, if it's not already on the list, pick me up a couple pounds of unsalted butter? Oh, and some dark brown sugar?"

Jack frowns. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I might get the wrong kind."

"No," Bitty repeats, a little more firmly. He looks back at his laptop. "If you don't want to get it, that's fine, I'll get it myself later. But… I don't think I should go with you right now."

Jack stares at him for a moment, confused and hurt. He shouldn't be that hurt by Bitty not wanting to go to the grocery store, but it feels like more avoidance, and he doesn't know why Bitty is avoiding him.

"Okay," he finally says, and leaves.

Monday their schedules don't overlap much anyhow, but Bitty isn't even home for the hour they'd usually have together. Jack texts him, asking where he is, and he just replies _Went out for lunch._

Jack is _certain_ Bitty is avoiding him when he comes home Tuesday to find piles of cookies in the kitchen. Bitty is taking the last pan out of the oven.

It has to have taken a couple of hours, at least. Bitty must have gotten up early (for him) to finish all these cookies before Jack got home.

"I thought we were going to bake together tomorrow afternoon," Jack says carefully. "We've both got the afternoon free, right?" It was the one time Jack was _sure_ he would get Bitty alone.

Bitty barely looks at him, moving the cookies to a cooling rack. "Well, I had some time so I figured I should get them done. You can bring them in when you go on Thursday."

Jack just stares, more confused and hurt than ever. It would make sense for Bitty to be a little embarrassed by what happened with Shitty, but surely he has to have gotten over it—especially since Jack has reason to be embarrassed, too. Baking together, especially alone, baking for the shelter, is always a bonding time for them; wouldn't it be the perfect time to talk something like this over and get past their embarrassment? Bitty has never done the shelter baking without him.

"Bits, why—"

But before he can ask, Bitty is pulling off his apron, still not looking at him. "I'd better get going, I picked up a double shift today. I've got a double tomorrow, too, so it's not like we could've baked then anyhow."

"You…" Jack watches him go upstairs to change into work clothes. Jack follows slowly, still confused. He stands outside of Bitty's bedroom door, waiting.

Bitty was clearly not expecting Jack to be there, and gasps in surprise, putting a hand over his heart, when he opens it and almost runs into Jack.

"Oh my goodness!"

"Bitty—"

But Bitty's surprise turns quickly to annoyance. "Jack, I need to get to work," he says as he pushes past and starts back down the stairs. "I don't much appreciate you skulking around outside my room trying to ambush me, either. I don't need a stalker."

"I live here," Jack says as he follows back down. "I'm not stalking you, I just want to talk—"

"I am not ready to talk to you yet," Bitty says forcefully, pausing in the middle of putting his coat on. Jack can only see him from the side, but his eyes are closed. "Leave me alone, Jack."

"Okay," Jack says in a small voice. As he watches Bitty sweep out the front door, he feels like crying for the first time since he got to earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I wanted to make sure you won't be left on this angsty cliffhanger for long. And I'd excised a large chunk of the next chapter (which will likely be turned into its own timestamp later), which left it feeling too short, so I needed to write a new scene for it.
> 
> I will try to get that chapter up tomorrow!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long.

When Jack gets to work on Thursday, he pulls Nursey aside.

"Is there any way at all that I can leave a half hour early today? Or even fifteen minutes?"

Nursey shrugs. "Yeah, that should be doable. Once you guys are done unloading and sorting, I'll have Dex take his break early. Everything okay?"

Jack looks at them for a moment. Humans have an annoying habit of asking how you are when they don't actually care, and Jack has no idea if that's what Nursey is doing or if they really want to hear about Jack's life.

He finally settles on, "I don't know. There's just someone I need to talk to."

Nursey raises their eyebrows, but claps him on the shoulder. "Okay, fam. We can work it."

Jack spent most of Tuesday and Wednesday brooding while Bitty was off working his double shifts. He couldn't understand why Bitty would be "not ready to talk to him yet," or why Bitty would be so _annoyed_ with him. He'd thought everything was going so well between them; before Shitty had stuck his nose it, Jack was sure he'd find a time to talk to Bitty in the next few days and hopefully make it so that things were going _officially_ well. Now a few moments of embarrassment—that weren't even Jack's fault—and Bitty refuses to talk to him at all.

It took several hours holed up in his room, but it finally hit him. And when it did, he couldn't believe he'd been so stupid, not to see it before.

Yes, Bitty had figured out that Shitty was talking about him. But before then, he'd had no idea that Jack was trying to do anything romantic. Jack's flirting must be awful, and he's been completely misreading all the signals he thought he was getting. Just when he thought he'd been getting the hang of being human, it turns out he's still miserable at it. Bitty had just realized, during that conversation, that Jack had feelings for him—and he clearly did not return those feelings.

It explains why he's been avoiding Jack; he doesn't want to lead him on. But Jack still hadn't understood, at first, why Bitty would be _angry_ at him. It didn't seem like Bitty would hold that sort of thing against him. Surely, he knows that Jack didn't fall in love with him on _purpose._

With the help of that little worst-case-scenario voice (which was loudly bleating about how right it had been), Jack managed to find a couple of possible answers to that, though. 

Maybe Bitty thought it was obvious that Jack needed to get over him and thought it should be obvious to Jack and was annoyed that Jack was still trying to spend time with him. It might look to him like Jack is actively _avoiding_ getting over him.

Or maybe Bitty thought, from what Shitty said, that Jack thought it had been going well (and, well, Jack _had_ thought that), and he was angry at Jack for assuming so much without talking to him.

Either way, Jack wants this to be over with. He wants to get back to being friends. He wants to get over Bitty. But he knows that Bitty continuing to avoid and ignore him won't solve anything. He's got that worst-case-scenario voice in his head, but he also has a hopeful little voice that refuses to shut up about how well it _had_ seemed to be going, about how maybe there's still a chance. He needs Bitty to actually talk to him, to just _tell him_ that there's no chance, tell him to get over it.

And frankly, he's a little annoyed back at Bitty for not doing that in the first place. He's had so many chances to just talk to Jack for five minutes—thirty seconds, even. To just say "Look, I don't feel that way about you, so I think we need to spend less time together for a little while." How can he "not be ready" to say that? Does he think Jack will be angry about it? Does he think Jack won't accept it, that he'll push and insist Bitty give him another chance? Bitty should know him better than that. All other feelings aside, they've been friends for months now, and Jack can't help but be offended that Bitty would think that of him.

If the anger helps him put off feeling the heartbreak he knows is coming, even better.

He tries not to stew on all that while he works. Tries to just focus on his job, on putting the books where they belong. The morning drags, and he's relieved when Nursey sends Dex on his break at 11 instead of 11:30, then when they nod at Jack to let him know he can go at 11:30.

A nervous energy fills him on the walk home. He doesn't know if Bitty will be there. He knows that if he got home at his usual time, Bitty would _not_ be there—that he is almost certainly planning to be out of the house by then. That's what he did both Monday and Wednesday. Jack can only hope that showing up a half hour early will be enough to catch him.

He remembers Bitty's complaint about being ambushed, but at this point Jack isn't sure he has many other options besides an ambush. He's texted Bitty several times over the past few days asking to talk in one way or another, but they've all been ignored or brushed off. He has no idea how long he'd have to wait for this conversation if he doesn't surprise Bitty.

When he gets home, he heads straight for the kitchen, assuming that's where Bitty is. He doesn't even stop at the coat closet, instead stripping his coat, hat, and gloves off on the way. Bitty confirms his assumption, calling out "Hello?" before Jack even makes it out of the entryway.

Bitty is calling out another "Hello" when Jack's appearance in the kitchen doorway cuts him off. He's drying his hands; it looks like he just finished doing some dishes. Jack tosses his winter gear on a chair and stands in the doorway, blocking it, arms crossed.

Bitty's eyes widen. "Jack! What—" He looks at the clock on the stove, clearly thinking he must have lost track of time.

"We need to talk," Jack says. He doesn't move.

Bitty closes his eyes, dropping the dish towel on the counter before leaning back against it. "Jack, I told you. I'm not ready to talk this out yet."

"It's been almost a week," Jack says. "A week of you constantly avoiding me while we try to live together in the same house. I don't even understand what it is you're 'not ready' for!"

Bitty's eyes snap open. "Oh, come on, Jack. You know this is gonna be embarrassing and upsetting for me."

"For you?" Jack asks. He finally comes into the room a few steps, since Bitty seems unlikely to try to escape around him. "Bitty, look, this doesn't have to be a long conversation. I just need you to say it to my face so I can move on with my life."

"So _you_ can move on?" Bitty asks, anger sparking in an instant. "So _you_ can move on? What could you possibly need me to say that's preventing you from _moving on_ with your life??"

"Well, I don't know for sure, do I?" Jack snaps. "All I know is that that ever since that conversation with Shitty, you've been angry at me. I can guess why, but I can't possibly know for sure unless you _tell me_!"

"Jack, did you ever stop to think how humiliating this is for me?" Bitty crosses his arms, mirroring Jack's defensive posture. "That maybe saying it out loud is a little hard? That maybe I'd need a little space and a little time for that humiliation to die down first?"

"Humiliation, really?" It's been a while since Jack has raised his voice like this, but it's been a while since he's been this frustrated. "I get why you were embarrassed, but how is any of this _humiliating?_ Have you stopped to think how it feels for _me?_ "

Bitty's mouth drops open. "How it feels for _you?"_ he snarls. Jack isn't sure he's ever seen him this angry. Which just pisses Jack off more, because _why??_ "Jesus, Jack, have you really done that much of a one-eighty? Did you decide selfishness is pretty great, actually?"

"You're the one saying this is humiliating!" Jack runs his hands into his hair, pushing it back from his face and digging his fingertips into his scalp. "Look, I don't want to talk about this either, so just tell me how you feel and I'll go, okay? I'll leave you the hell alone for as long as you want!"

Bitty turns away from him, grabbing the dishtowel again and twisting it between his hands.

"Fine!" he snaps, without turning around. "I'm in love with you, okay? Are you happy? Go laugh at me where I can't see you!"

The entire world seems to come to an abrupt halt as Jack goes back over what Bitty just said in his head.

"That makes no sense!" he exclaims. "Why the hell would that conversation with Shitty upset you?"

"Oh for Pete's sake, how many details do you need?" Bitty's back is still turned, but he seems to be strangling the poor dish towel, as hard as he's twisting it. "Do you really need to hear me say that I was stupid enough to think I had a chance?" Suddenly he spins around, pinning Jack with a glare that almost makes him step back. "No. No, I'm not going to feel stupid for that. Maybe it wasn't _all_ on purpose, but you know full well you were leading me on! Even you can't be oblivious enough to tell me that that was _all_ an accident."

Jack is so confused. So, so confused. "Of course it was on purpose!" he cries helplessly.

Bitty looks stricken at this, for some reason. "That's just great, Jack! Okay, lovely, now it's all out there. You knew I was in love with you and you were leading me on while not even telling me there was someone else. What, was I your backup plan?"

"Someone else?" Jack mutters, staring incredulously at Bitty. Then it hits him. "Bittle, did it not occur to you for one second that Shitty might be talking about _you?_ "

Bitty freezes, and he seems to be having the same experience Jack had a moment ago. "Of course it occurred to me!" He finally shouts, throwing his hands up a little hysterically. "Obviously there was some crazy hope it was me flitting around in my brain! But why the hell would he have brought it up in front of me, then? Even Shitty isn't that tactless! And you heard what he said, he wasn't talking like—"

"Shitty doesn't know who it is!" Jack bursts out, throwing his own hands up in the air. "I didn't tell him who it was, he didn't know it was you!"

"You're telling me that Shitty was telling me about you trying to date _me_ , and he didn't know it was me he was telling me about?" Bitty's voice rises through the whole question, becoming both louder and shriller.

"Yes!" Jack replies incredulously. "Of course it's you! Who else would it be?"

"I don't know!" Bitty yelps, his arms flailing helplessly as he gets even louder. "You must know people I don't know, I don't know what you get up to!"

"Well, it is you!" Jack roars, frustrated at his own frustration when objectively this conversation is going _well_. If it's going well, why is he still so angry?

Bitty makes a few sounds, aborted almost-words, before shouting, "And you seriously couldn't tell I felt the same way?"

"I thought I could! Then you stopped talking to me and got mad at me and I had no idea why! The only thing I could come up with was that _you_ didn't know how _I_ felt, and you figured it out when Shitty brought it up and you didn't want to have to tell me to my face that you weren't interested!"

"Of course I'm interested!"

"So why are we still yelling about this?" It comes out louder than Jack intended.

"Because I am _feeling_ a lot of _feelings_ ," Bitty continues to yell, frustration all over the rigid set of his body, "and I'm having a very hard time processing all of it at once!"

"Me, too," Jack says, not realizing it's true until he says it.

They stand there staring at each other for at least a minute. Jack is sure his eyes must look as wild as Bitty's.

Suddenly, Bitty walks straight toward him, not stopping until his forehead is resting on Jack's shoulder, at which point the rest of his body slumps against Jack's. Jack lets out a long breath as he wraps his arms around Bitty and feels arms snaking around his own waist in return. He buries his nose in Bitty's soft hair. It smells nice, like citrus.

"We're still not very good at this humaning thing sometimes, are we?" Bitty says, his voice a little muffled.

Jack snorts. "I'm pretty sure that was _very_ human."

Bitty's body shakes a little with silent laughter. He finally takes a deep breath and pulls back to look up at Jack fondly. Jack gently reaches up to touch his face.

"We are so stupid," Jack says.

"So stupid," Bitty agrees. "Sweetheart, if anything you've said is true you better kiss me right now."

Jack certainly doesn't want Bitty to doubt his sincerity, so he does as he's told.

He moves slowly, and Bitty reaches up to meet him, their noses brushing as they tilt their heads to bring their lips together. Jack, of course, has never kissed anyone, but that doesn't really matter. It's warm and soft and he can't believe how different it is from every other time they've touched. They pull back a little and come together again over and over, changing the angle and pressure a little each time, until he feels Bitty's lips part under his own. Jack follows suit, and the tip of Bitty's tongue carefully touches his own in teasing little caresses. 

Jack pulls him closer, and is overcome by the feeling he'd had on the way home from hot chocolate, like he wants to be as close as possible. He wants to get rid of all the clothing in the way; he wants every inch of their bodies touching; he wants their skin to melt into each other. He's still not sure that what he's feeling is sexual, but he finally understands why people might want to have sex with someone they love, why they would want to press their naked bodies together and to try to climb inside of each other in any way possible. For the first time, that part, at least, sounds appealing.

Finally, Bitty pulls away with a gasp, his hands coming up to slide into Jack's hair as though he has to make up for the loss of contact somehow. "Jack," he says. "Oh, honey."

"Did you really think I would do that?" Jack asks. "String you along like that when I really wanted someone else?"

"I didn't know what to think!" Bitty insists. "When Shitty said that stuff, you looked all panicked, like he was tellin' secrets you didn't want me to know."

"I was kind of panicked," Jack admits. "I just… wasn't prepared for him to start asking me about it in front of you, and I didn't know what to say, because _we_ hadn't talked about it yet." He shakes his head. "After I had a chance to think about it, I came up with all kinds of ways I could've handled it, but in the moment I just froze. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you think it had anything to do with not wanting to be with you. I didn't realize how I looked."

"I'm sorry I didn't just talk to you sooner," Bitty says with a sigh. His fingers tickle a little as they wander through Jack's hair. "It's my fault we didn't hash this out and kiss a week ago. At first I was just embarrassed, because I thought I'd read everything wrong. I figured I'd need a couple days to lick my wounds and then tell you okay, I get it, I just need some space to get over you. But then after I stewed about it for a while I decided there was no way I was reading _everything_ wrong. So that's when I started to get angry, and then I _really_ didn't want to talk to you. And at no point in there did I stop to think that maybe talking to you would actually help. I was too scared of hearing you actually say it."

"Maybe I should've talked to you about the whole thing sooner," Jack says. "About what we were doing and how we felt. I was kind of having fun, though, I guess—it was like being on a ledge, about to jump off."

Bitty smiles. "Yeah. Enjoying the anticipation. Me too. I figured we'd get there soon enough."

"Exactly." He leans down to give Bitty another gentle kiss. "I like this better."

"I think it's only gonna get better from here, sweetpea," Bitty says. Gazing into his eyes, Jack believes it.

"I love you," he murmurs. "I don't want you to doubt that, ever."

"I won't," Bitty says, so soft Jack can barely hear him. Then he pulls away a little, reaching back to grab Jack's hands where they're pressed into his back. "Come on," he says, giving Jack's hands a squeeze as he pulls out of them. "Let's go talk about this upstairs where we can get nice and comfy."

Jack is not surprised to find out that comfy means Bitty's bed, not his own.

"Wow," he says as he sinks down into it. "Okay, I understand why you have all this stuff now." He reaches out to pull a giggling Bitty down with him.

"Guess you'll just have to sleep here sometimes, huh?" Bitty asks as they curl around each other.

As they talk, Jack learns that Bitty figured out his feelings way before Jack did—back when they did their first all-day baking session for the shelter and his vlog. In fact, it turns out he started going on dates soon afterward specifically in an attempt to get over Jack. Jack feels a little silly, because now that he looks back he realizes that's about the same time he started wanting to spend more and more time alone with Bitty—but he's not surprised that Bitty would understand his own emotions better than Jack would.

"I mean, I knew I was physically attracted to you for a _long_ time," Bitty says, one finger tracing Jack's collarbone, "but even once we started spending more time together I thought that was all it was."

"How long?" Jack asks, baffled.

Bitty blushes and bites his lip, eyes focused on Jack's chest. "You remember how you couldn't understand why I wanted my own room so bad?"

"Yeah," Jack says, not seeing where this is going.

Bitty glances up at him, then sighs and shakes his head as he looks back down. "I shouldn't be this embarrassed about it _now_ ," he says. "I'd started having dreams about you."

"Dreams?"

"Like… sexy dreams. I was so worried I was gonna, like, moan your name in the middle of the night or something, and you clearly were not feeling anything of the sort in return."

Jack blinks down at him. "Do you still have those dreams?"

Bitty giggles and gives him a sly look. "Sometimes. Less now, actually." He tilts his face up to look at Jack full-on. "I still dream about you, though," he says softly, his finger still stroking the skin above Jack's shirt. "But now more of 'em are like this. Just being with you, kissing you and holding you and feeling safe and secure and loved."

Jack smiles. "I've had dreams like that," he says. "I like those."

"What about the other kind?" Bitty asks, his smile turning sharper. Jack's smile fades. He's been avoiding thinking about this, because it's the one thing he could see messing everything up. It's been easy to ignore it up until now, because it's not so much something to ignore as the _lack_ of something, and so it never calls attention to itself.

Bitty notices the shift, and his expression becomes more serious, too.

"I've never had those dreams," Jack admits. "About anyone. I don't think I've ever felt… that. Sexual attraction. Not even to you, and it's not anything to do with you," he rushes to add, "because you're gorgeous and I could stare at you for hours. I feel _so many_ things when I look at you, but none of them are about sex."

"That's fine," Bitty says gently. "You don't have to. We knew from the start that a lot of angels stay ace when they fall. I know it's not a slight against me."

"Is it really fine, though?" Jack asks. "Seriously, Bits. I know how important experiencing sex is to you, and I have no idea if I'm ever going to really want it, or enjoy it."

Bitty looks at him thoughtfully, and Jack is glad he's not just jumping to give the easy answer. "Do you really have no idea?" he finally asks. "Or are you pretty sure the answer is no, and you're just scared to tell me you don't think you'll ever want to have sex with me?"

"I really don't know," Jack says. "If I had to guess, I'm guessing I'll never feel sexual attraction like you do, like just looking at you and suddenly wanting you or… however it feels. But that doesn't necessarily mean I wouldn't enjoy it. I'm totally open to trying it. More than that, I _want_ to. I think I'd really like making you feel good. I just… can't promise you anything." The overwhelming urge he felt before, to meld their bodies together—it hadn't been arousing, per se, but even if he never cares about some parts of sex he thinks there's a lot about it he might love.

"Jack," Bitty starts, then he stops and swallows. He seems to be gathering himself, and Jack realizes there are tears shining in his eyes. "Yes, sex is something I've been curious about as an angel for a long, long time. But it's also something I've gotten a chance to try several times now. And I like it, it feels good. But being with you… that's so much more important to me, Jack. Loving you, getting to experience being in love like this together, this is more important. I won't lie, I do very much want to do that with you, and I hope it's something we can enjoy together, but if it's not, it's not." His serious expression gives way to an amused grin. "I know how to masturbate, honey. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Jack says, returning his grin. "Like I said, I want to try it. I just don't want to set your expectations too high, and I would understand if it were a dealbreaker."

"It's nowhere near," Bitty assures him.

They keep talking, interrupted by a lot of kissing and touching. Jack isn't sure he'll ever get enough of touching Bitty, sexual or not. 

Eventually, they get up to eat lunch, though they're always touching somehow. They lie tangled together on the couch, and Jack has never enjoyed watching TV so much. They talk some more before Bitty has to leave for work. They decide not to tell Shitty and Lardo just yet—they want some privacy right now, a chance to adjust to this shift in their relationship without their well-intentioned friends' interference. (Okay, without Shitty's interference; they both trust Lardo to mind her own business.) It's not that they want to hide it, or lie about it, or even that they want to wait more than a week—they just want to have this all to themselves for a little while.

So once their housemates are home, they try to play it cool—but Jack sneaks upstairs when Bitty goes to change into his work clothes and slips into his room. Bitty is buttoning his work shirt, and when Jack catches his eye in the mirror, he's reminded of the moment he realized he was in love.

"Hey, you," Bitty says, grinning.

Jack comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, nuzzling the back of his neck. Bitty relaxes in his arms.

"I just wanted to ask you something before you go," Jack says.

"What's up, sweetpea?"

Jack reaches his chin up a little and rests it on top of Bitty's head.

"Rude!" Bitty squawks, but doesn't do anything to unseat him.

Jack laughs, but moves his head—he has to reach just enough that it would probably be hard to talk like that, unfortunately.

"I want to go on a real date this weekend," he says. "We should find some excuse to do something without Lardo and Shitty."

Bitty's eyes light up. "I know just the thing! You leave it to me."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Do I get to know where we're going? It was my idea to go on a date."

"And it was a very good idea," Bitty says. He gives Jack a quick kiss on the cheek and then pulls out of his arms and heads for the door. "But I have to get to work."

"Hey!"

Jack is left glaring at Bitty's door as it closes. Hopefully he'll get to find out what their date will be before they're on it.

* * *

"Run that by me again? Your cousin's best friend's nephew's what now?"

Jack is surprised to hear Shitty's voice when he comes home from work the next day. He must have taken another "snow day"—Jack wonders if this is going to become a Friday tradition.

"Michelle, our bartender," Bitty explains patiently. Jack hangs up his coat and heads into the living room to find out what this is about. "Her sister's roommate is dating the brother of the Falconers' goalie."

"Okay…" Shitty squints at Bitty suspiciously. "And this got _you_ Falconers tickets how?"

"Well, Michelle's sister is a big hockey fan, so her roommate finagled her four tickets for her birthday. It was gonna be her and Michelle and their boyfriends. But she got called out of town for work this weekend, and the other three don't really care about hockey, they were just going for her sake, so they were getting rid of the tickets cheap. And she happened to have two left."

"Jack, you lucky fucker!" Shitty bounces out of his seat and tries (and fails) to get Jack in a headlock. "Bitty here scored two sweet tickets to the Falconers' home game tomorrow, and guess who he's taking?"

"Uh," Jack says.

Bitty rolls his eyes. "You don't have to go if you don't want to," he says, but winks at Jack while Shitty's back is turned. "It's just that you and I have never actually been to a hockey game, unlike Shitty and even Lardo. If we're gonna play on his team, we should probably see a game in person at least once."

"Sure," Jack says with what he hopes is a nonchalant shrug before heading for the kitchen "Sounds like fun."

He manages to keep his face from breaking out in a wide grin until he's got it blocked by the refrigerator door as he looks for lunch. It makes sense now that Bitty wouldn't tell him, since there was probably a chance the tickets would be gone. But now that the tickets have been secured, they not only have an excuse to go out, just the two of them, but to go all the way down to Providence, which means they can easily justify leaving early to get something to eat down there before the game. Maybe they can even get a whole day to themselves. Jack decides he's going to damn well _find_ an excuse to leave for Providence as early as possible.

* * *

Luckily, there are plenty of historical sites and museums around Providence, so they easily fill up a full day's schedule. When Bitty come downstairs for breakfast the next morning, it's with a cheerful bounce in his step rather than his usual plodding morning gait.

"Didn't realize you were so excited to see Rhode Island," Lardo mutters into her cereal. Jack keeps his eyes on the news app on his phone while he drinks his coffee.

"Well, we haven't really gotten out of Boston at all since we got here, have we?" Bitty says breezily as he pours himself a mug. "I know it's not exactly a glamorous vacation destination, but it's something a little different. And I am excited to see a hockey game up close! I can only imagine the energy in that stadium."

Bitty continues to chatter about their plans for the day while he gets his own cereal and sits down with Jack and Lardo. Jack does his best not to stare at Bitty's adorably rumpled hair and tries to hide his fond grins with his coffee mug.

By 10:00, they're on their way. As soon as they get through the stiles at the T station, Bitty clings to Jack's arm and leans heavily into his side as he talks about something one of his coworkers did the night before. Jack likes him there; he just has to tilt his head a little and his cheek is pressed into all that soft hair.

It's their first time out in public together as a couple, and Jack takes full advantage of the fact that he doesn't have to hold himself back like he has on their other not-quite-dates. When they find seats on the train, he presses right up against Bitty and wraps an arm around his shoulders. They hold hands on the way through South Station from the subway to the commuter rail train. They snuggle together on the commuter rail, where they manage to find a seat at the back of a car with nobody in the next few rows. And every once in a while one of them will press a quick, light kiss to the other's hand, or temple, or cheek.

They go to a couple of historic houses. Bitty is clearly trying to act interested for Jack's sake, but Jack doesn't linger since he knows Bitty isn't actually as into it as he is. To be honest, it's hard for him to concentrate on the stories of the houses' inhabitants or the histories of the artifacts inside when Bitty's hand is warm in his and Bitty's lips are right there next to him waiting to be kissed. (Which he does, every time they find themselves alone in one of the rooms.)

Bitty, of course, looked up some little bistro for them to eat lunch at that's known for its desserts and baked goods. It's late enough that they've missed the lunch rush, but before they even make it to the hostess stand they hear a voice behind them.

"Zimmboni! Little B!"

They turn to find Alexei Mashkov entering the bistro, holding the door open for an attractive young woman with long brown hair and tan skin.

"Tater!" Bitty, of course, recovers from the surprise much more quickly than Jack. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"What you're doing in Providence?" Alexei asks. "Oh! I told you about Vanessa, yes? Vanessa, this Zimmboni and Little B!"

Vanessa must be used to Alexei introducing people using odd nicknames, because she just looks amused as Jack holds out his hand for her to shake. "Jack is fine."

"I'm Eric," Bitty says as he shakes her hand, "but most people call me Bitty. Or you can call me Little B, I suppose, but that one is Tater's own creation."

"Of course," Vanessa says, smirking. "Your normal nickname wasn't enough, so he had to give you a nickname of your nickname."

While they introduce themselves, Jack notices Alexei noticing his arm around Bitty's waist, but he doesn't move it.

"Zimmboni volunteers at shelter. Little B is his… housemate?" He raises an eyebrow as he says the last part, looking pointedly at Jack's arm.

"Euh…" Jack glances down at Bitty, who leans into his side and grins up at him. "Housemate… and boyfriend?"

For some reason Jack is nervous about saying it out loud, but Bitty looks delighted.

"Wonderful!" Alexei booms, and claps Jack on the back. "I thought there was something up when we went to movie! I knew it! Is new?"

"About… what, two days?" Bitty asks. Jack nods.

"We just got here," Jack says, glancing toward the tables beyond the hostess booth. "Do you want to join us?"

"Of course!" Alexei turns to Vanessa. "You mind if we make double date?"

"Sounds great," Vanessa says, smiling at Jack and Bitty.

Since Alexei and Vanessa have only been dating for a few weeks themselves, the two couples share stories of first dates and flirtations as they eat. It turns out that Vanessa is a sports reporter for the local news and sometimes covers Falconers games, so they wind up talking hockey for a while, too.

The food is good, but when it comes time for dessert, Bitty eyes the menu with a critical eye.

"I don't know," he says. "The croissant my sandwich was on was good, but nothing special. Am I just setting myself up for disappointment if I try the pie?"

"Nobody's pie better than B's pie," Alexei tells Vanessa very seriously. " _But_ , is still a lot of good pie out there. Maybe this restaurant is second place, you never know."

"He has a point," Jack says, nudging Bitty's foot with his own under the table. "There's a lot of space between mediocre pie and your pie."

"I'm not sure I believe you've ever even eaten a pie besides mine," Bitty teases, "so how would you know?"

"You never have pie until you meet B?" Alexei says with a gasp.

Bitty blushes as he realizes that he's said something wrong, but Jack just shrugs. "I've never had much of a sweet tooth. I'm sure I had pie once or twice as a kid, I don't really remember. Anyhow, the point is, order the pie like we all know you're going to."

Jack splits the dessert with him, a slice of blueberry pie with cinnamon ice cream, and he has to admit that the pie really _isn't_ as good as Bitty's. ("They really shouldn't be featuring blueberries so out of season," Bitty says with a sad shake of his head) It's good enough, though. He wouldn't order it for himself, but he eats his half. Luckily, they both agree that the house-made ice cream makes up for the less-than-stellar pie.

They part ways with Alexei and Vanessa after lunch. Bitty leads Jack to a park overlooking the waterfront, and since it's a bit warm for February they spend an hour just wandering around, taking in the views and each other. When Bitty starts to complain about the cold, Jack teases him (really, it's in the upper 40s and he's wearing a puffy coat, hat, and gloves, how can he be _cold?_ ) but also wraps him up in his arms and warms him back up.

They have a couple more hours to kill before they need to head to the stadium after that, so they take an Uber to the RISD art museum. Jack doesn't even pretend he's not taking as many photos of Bitty as he is of the art. 

Finally, they head to the hockey stadium.

Jack realizes as they navigate the crowd to find their seats that this is the first time he's been to an event like this—huge crowd, bright lights, music blaring over the loudspeakers. He doesn't particularly like those parts, but he has to admit there's an energy to it that even he finds exciting. 

He's always been interested when Shitty watches hockey on TV, enough to watch full games and learn the rules. He quickly realizes how different it looks from down near the glass—their seats are excellent, not front row but close enough. He definitely prefers seeing it from this angle, and by the end of the first period he has a new appreciation for it.

"I think I can't wait to play," he tells Bitty.

"You sound so confused by that fact, honey," Bitty says fondly. "Were you not expecting to enjoy it?"

Jack pauses, staring out onto the ice as the zamboni does its thing. "I guess… I like exercising, so I figured it would, y'know, feel good to exercise. And probably fun to mess around with you and Shitty. And since we went ice skating I've been excited to get back on the ice, especially now that we know we're both good at that part. But this feels… different. Watching the puck from down here, seeing how the plays come together… it feels right? Natural? Like I want to be a part of that."

"Well, maybe you're good at more than just the skating part," Bitty says. He's grinning at Jack in a way that makes him blush. Like Jack is something truly wonderful. "I could do the jumps and spins, maybe you can do this stuff."

Jack shrugs. "I guess we'll find out."

The game is a nail-biter, and the Falconers just beat the Capitals in overtime. Bitty talked Jack into getting terrible concession-stand food during the second intermission, so they're both full of nachos and soft pretzels and hot dogs by the time they stand up to make their way to the doors with the rest of the crowd.

They just make the last train back to Boston. It's nearly empty, so after a couple people get off in Sharon they have a car to themselves for nearly half an hour. They take advantage of the privacy to make out a little bit, though Jack is getting tired and really, it's about as much talking and laughing as making out.

"This was so nice," Bitty says as they make their way back across South Station to the T, hand-in-hand. "Maybe we should go on a trip sometime, just us. Just for a day or two. Nothing fancy, we can just find a B&B up in Vermont. Or maybe drive into New York—if we can afford it, I'm sure hotels there are insane."

"That sounds great," Jack says, kissing him on the temple. "We'll have to see about getting our days off work to line up for something like that."

"I'm sure we can manage," Bitty says as they go down the stairs to the subway platform. "Worst case, if you need to work the morning we leave or I work the evening we get back it's not the end of the world."

Jack waits until they're seated on a bench, waiting for the train that's supposed to arrive in four minutes, before speaking again. "Do you think we should tell Shitty and Lardo? It was nice not to have to hide it today."

"True," Bitty says. "Though I gotta be honest, I'm still so annoyed at Shitty for sticking his nose in it last week that I'm not sure I'm ready to take his teasing with a smile."

Jack hums in agreement. "I guess we don't have to decide yet. We can see how the next day or two goes."

"Yeah, it's not like it's now or never. They'll probably figure it out for themselves, anyhow."

"True."

By the time they get home, Shitty and Lardo are about to head to bed, so they give them a quick rundown of their day and then are left alone again. It's past Jack's bedtime, and even Bitty is tired after such a busy day, so they get ready for bed, too.

After he brushes his teeth, Jack slips into Bitty's room. This will be the third night in a row he's slept there, on Bitty's super-comfortable mattress (made infinitely more comfortable by the presence of Bitty in it).

"This is gonna be our downfall," he says as he gets under the covers next to Bitty, who's already in bed. "Imagine how unbearable they'll be if they catch me coming out of here one morning."

"Hmm." Bitty burrows under the covers and into Jack's side. "On the one hand, yes, they'd be unbearable, but on the other hand, you get up before anyone else in the house. Somehow I doubt they'll catch you."

"I guess we'll find out," Jack murmurs, already feeling drowsy. "Good night, Bits. I love you."

"Love you, too, sweetheart." Bitty's face appears from under the covers just long enough to give Jack a sweet, lingering kiss before disappearing again.

Jack settles in with his boyfriend in his arms. Every day he gets to be with Bitty like this, he feels more contented than he has since leaving Heaven. He's never been in love—angels _can_ fall in love, whether with humans or with other angels, and some even form a permanent bond, but Jack only has a few close friends in Heaven and he's never felt anything remotely like this for any of them. Falling was worth it, he decides, if only for the opportunity to feel like this. Even if he dies tomorrow, he'll return to Heaven glad that he got the chance to experience this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this made things all better after the last chapter's slight bit of pain! Just the epilogue left now!


	11. Chapter 11

Jacquariel is carefully polishing the metal detailing around the doorway to their latest room in the Great Library. This will be the first they've completed in the decade since they left Earth, and it is, by far, their greatest creation. Not because it is more creative, or more innovative, or more attractive than the one next to it, or than any other room in the Library. Because of what it houses, what it _will_ house, which Jacquariel, for the first time, had a hand in themself. Because of what they can see reflected on every wall, in every decorative flair, in every single choice they made in its design—love and devotion above and beyond that which they were born to feel for all of humanity, a deep well of inspiration unlike anything they had experienced before their time on Earth.

"Jacquariel?"

They look around. There is a Guardian approaching, far off still; Jacquariel can only just hear their voice.

"Jacquariel!"

The Guardian breaks into a run. Jacquariel, curious, starts down the staircase to meet them, but only gets halfway down by the time the Guardian reaches the bottom stair.

They stop there, seeming unsure as to whether they're welcome to come all the way up to meet Jacquariel. They're bouncing slightly, excited, and Jacquariel is mesmerized by the way their fire and ice glow and flare and swirl in the most exquisite patterns they've ever seen.

Jacquariel ventures down a few more steps, just enough to get a little closer, to be sure of what they're seeing.

"…Bittiel?"

The Guardian's face breaks out in a rapturous smile. Jacquariel realizes, suddenly, that they have never seen Bittiel smile, not as an angel—though even in his angelic face, there is something of Bitty there, just enough to feel familiar.

"I just finished my debriefing with the Council," Bittiel explains. "I came right here, I couldn't wait one more moment to see you."

"Come with me," Jacquariel blurts out, motioning eagerly for Bittiel to follow them up the stairs to the Library room. "I want you to see what I've been working on."

They dash back up the stairs, only stopping once to make sure Bittiel is following. Bittiel's smile has dimmed a bit with confusion, but his fire is burning as brightly as ever as he makes his way up the stairs.

Jacquariel waits for him at the door. They long to reach out and touch, but… that may not be what Bittiel wants, not anymore, not now that they're both back in Heaven. Jacquariel realizes their own hands are shaking a bit, suddenly nervous, suddenly not sure that this will be a welcome surprise, but they push the door open anyhow and motion Bittiel through.

Bittiel walks a few feet into the room, then stops abruptly. Jacquariel hangs back by the door, and so can't see Bittiel's expression. Guardians don't even have any eyes on the backs of their bodies for him to watch. Their wings can communicate much about their emotional state, but Bittiel's wings are as frozen as the rest of his body. Finally, Bittiel's head turns to one side to take in the lefthand wall, and Jacquariel can briefly see the way his mouth hangs open before his head starts a slow pivot to take in the room from one side to the other.

Suddenly, Bittiel dashes away, past the first row of shelves to the mural that starts on the left side of the room and curls all the way around to the door. He scans over the first few sections quickly, then slows down when he gets to a painting of two men lying in grass. Jacquariel hangs back, watching as Bittiel runs his fingertips over the image, his nose just inches away.

"Oh," Bittiel says softly before moving on to the next image, and the next. "Oh, sweetpea."

Several of Jacquariel's many eyes sting with tears at the sound of the nickname they haven't heard in years. They have managed to drop nearly all of their verbal tics born of using human language for so long, but they can't help hoping that Bittiel keeps a few.

Bittiel continues down the wall, exclaiming quietly now and then, letting out a delighted laugh at some images. Jacquariel watches his progress from the center of the room. When Bittiel gets to the end, he looks at Jacquariel for a moment, biting his lip, looking more like Bitty than ever, before taking a few steps toward the shelves. There are rows and rows, but most are empty. Only the first shelf at the front contains a few scrolls.

"Jacquariel," he says softly, indicating all the empty shelves. "What is this? What is this room meant to hold?"

Jacquariel swallows and goes to stand by Bittiel's side. They can't quite look at him, instead looking out over the empty shelves with him.

"This is… us," they say, motioning to the scrolls that have already taken their place. "Our stories, and Larissa's, and Shitty's. And our children. And… eventually… all of our descendants. This room will be filled with the lives of our family, all the humans who will ever exist because of three angels."

They hear a sob, and look over to see Bittiel wiping his face and shaking his head. He takes in the mural again, turning three hundred and sixty degrees to look at every wall, then up at the ceiling where there's already an image of Lily.

Jacquariel is fairly certain that these are tears of joy, but it's hard to be confident when the fact remains that they have hardly known Bittiel as an angel. What if, despite all the evidence so far, he's nothing like Bitty? What if he's saddened by how much work Jacquariel has put into this instead of moving on? What if—

"I just feel so ridiculous." Bittiel interrupts Jacquariel's thoughts before they can get out of control. "I was so scared…" He shakes his head, then turns to face Jacquariel head-on. "You've had a decade in Heaven to forget me, to go back to your old angelic life and move on and decide that our time together on earth was just a diversion, just some unimportant blip in such a long life. I'd just about managed to convince myself that I'd come running to find you, and you'd treat me like another acquaintance. Someone you knew once. And then it turns out, all this time…" He looks around again, fresh tears pouring down his ever-shifting face. "You weren't moving on, you were… you were doing _this!_ You were creating the most beautiful space in all of Heaven, all to honor our lives together. You were devoting every day to us."

He suddenly throws his arms around Jacquariel's neck, and Jacquariel grips him back reflexively. They close most of their eyes, focusing on how it feels to have Bittiel in their arms again. For the first time, really, as they're reminded by the new mix of sensations that weren't there when Jack touched Bitty. The soft heat of Bittiel's fire, the sharp chill of his ice, the velvet of his feathers. No skin anywhere, not the way a human has skin—not even the way Jacquariel has skin—but that's fine. Jacquariel wants to learn these new textures, to become as familiar with them as they were with the soft skin just below the joint of Bitty's jaw or the scar across Bitty's knee after he had surgery.

"I thought you might have moved on, too," they confess, still holding Bittiel tight. "Or that as soon as you were an angel again, you'd realize that what we had was a human connection best left behind with our human lives."

"No," Bittiel whispers. "No, no, I've missed you so much."

He pulls back, but only enough to see Jacquariel's face. They stare at each other for a moment, and then they're kissing.

Angels don't kiss, as a general rule. Angels aren't physical beings in the same way humans are physical beings, and don't have the same need for physical affection, but Jacquariel knows that this, physical touch, will always be a part of their relationship. No matter how far removed they are from their human lives, this is something they will always crave from each other in a way few angels ever experience.

Angels _can't_ have sex. They have nothing resembling genitalia, for one thing. No sensations that feel like even a metaphor for a human orgasm. Sex had eventually become an important part of Jack and Bitty's relationship, even if Jack still never fully understood that kind of physical attraction, never looked at Bitty and immediately _wanted_ the way Bitty claimed to feel toward him. He'd been right that it didn't stop him from enjoying sex, and he cherished the unique intimacies it allowed them.

Jacquariel will always treasure those experiences, but they won't _miss_ sex, not exactly, not when they and Bittiel have other ways to connect in their true forms.

Kissing, though, they can still do, and Jacquariel isn't sure they realized just how _much_ they missed it until now.

"This is weird," they murmur against Bittiel's mouth, unable to keep their own from stretching into a grin.

"What is?" Bittiel asks, then kisses them again.

"You're so tall."

Bittiel lets out an offended huff, but Jacquariel doesn't let him pull away. It's true—angels are all the same height while in Heaven, and it is a bit of a change after fifty years of kissing someone six inches shorter.

Eventually Bittiel pulls away for real. "I want you to show me the mural," he says, and Jacquariel is more than happy to pull him over to the wall and go around the room with him, hand in hand.

It starts with three parallel stories—Bittiel, Jacquariel, and Larissa, all of their lives in Heaven. Given that the rest of the room is devoted to a few decades, Jacquariel summed up thousands of years in a rather small stretch of wall, but they think they hit the important events that led each of them to be who they were when they fell.

It shows Larissa falling first, and Shitty becoming part of her story. Then Bittiel and Jacquariel's stories become intertwined as soon as they fall and stay that way. Their story and Lardo and Shitty's story come together and move apart as their lives did, back and forth across the years.

Their first years fallen, adjusting, all living together in that house. Jack getting his degree, Bitty graduating from culinary school. Then Bitty and Jack moving out into their own apartment around the time that Lardo and Shitty get married. Lardo and Shitty moving to Vermont when Shitty got a wild hair about getting closer to nature, then moving back to the city only a year later. Bittiel stops at the picture of Bitty and Jack's wedding, his fingertips brushing over this detail and that as he squeezes Jacquariel's hand tightly.

Images go by of various jobs, memorable holidays—and then the two stories come back together. Shitty's father died and, to Shitty's great shock, left him his enormous house. Shitty and Lardo had no desire to live there on their own and were planning to sell it, but Jack and Bitty started having problems with their landlord and Shitty convinced them that clearly the answer was for all four of them to live in his father's house for a while "just for shits and giggles."

Once they were all living together, they discovered that both couples had started talking about having children soon. Bitty and Jack worried that they would have trouble raising a human child at all when they themselves hadn't experienced a human childhood. They also needed a surrogate, and at first Lardo had talked about volunteering herself but ultimately wasn't sure she could handle growing a child in her body and being their biological mother but then giving them up and only being peripherally in their life.

It was Shitty who first suggested it. They'd been in the house together for over six months by then, and it really was big enough that the two couples could hang out together when they wanted but also have as much privacy as they needed. Why not stay there, and raise their kids together? Lardo could be not just biological mother to Jack and Bitty's kids, but their real mother in every sense.

Lardo, Jack, and Bitty all had the vague feeling that if they were normal humans they would think it was a ridiculous idea; but as it was, they weren't, and they didn't. Without a real reference point for a human childhood, almost anything could feel "normal" to them, so they thought they could make the odd arrangement work.

And so their timelines intertwined as Lardo gave birth to three children, each with a different biological father, all of whom considered themselves to have one mom and three dads.

As the two angels walk through this part of the mural, reminiscing, Bittiel updates Jacquariel on what their children and grandchildren have been up to recently.

When they reach the birth of their second granddaughter, Bittiel glances toward the small figure on the ceiling. "You know what happened to Lily, then."

Jacquariel follows his gaze. "Yes. I've come down to earth regularly to look in on all of you. When I saw how sick she was, I started coming more often. I spoke to her Guardian, found out when her time was so I could be there when she passed."

"Oh, sweetpea," Bittiel says, wrapping a wing around Jacquariel as he presses into their side. "Did she get to talk to you before her Guardian took her across?"

Jacquariel shakes their head. "She would have been terrified to see me like this. We should go and visit her, along with Larissa and Shitty, but hopefully Larissa can warn her about what we really look like first."

When their children were grown, they'd sat them down and explained what three of their four parents really were. It was never clear if any of them truly believed it, but all three children had admitted that the complete lack of childhood photos, any information on who their grandparents were, or any other information whatsoever about Lardo, Bitty, or Jack's childhoods (when information on Shitty's had been abundant) had always seemed odd. It had become a family tradition to explain it all when a grandchild turned eighteen, but Lily had only been twelve when she'd died.

"I was so glad we knew what was waiting for her," Bittiel says, gazing sadly at Lily as an infant. "It didn't make it easier, though, I don't think. For a while, I thought the Council had really made a mistake, sending me down into that particular life to have that particular experience, because as it was happening I was more sure than ever that no parent should ever have to lose their child. Heaven or no Heaven. I had fantasies of becoming this renegade Guardian who would protect all the children, Siming be damned. They'd just have to find another way to manage the flow of souls."

Jacquariel wraps their arms around him. "I could see it," they say, gazing at Bittiel's beautifully righteous face. "If anyone were going to lead an angelic uprising, you would be an excellent choice."

Bittiel shakes his head. "I got past it, don't worry. It's easier, now, being back here, knowing that she's here, too, and she's with Lardo and Shitty, and that Max and Annette will be with her someday. It's easy to forget, sometimes, as a human, how much better Heaven really is in most ways."

Once they reach the part of the walls where all three children are grown and moved out, the two timelines diverge again—with no children at home, both couples had longed for real privacy, and so they'd moved out of the huge old house. They'd gotten apartments just down the street from each other, though, so that it was never difficult for their whole family to be together when they wanted to be.

They spend some time reliving memories of their travels after that—especially once they'd both retired, they'd realized that they hadn't seen nearly as much of earth as they'd always meant to, and tried to remedy that.

Soon, though, they get to Jack's death, and then Shitty's and Lardo's. Jacquariel hasn't added Bitty's yet, but they point out where it will go. It's a somber way to end, and Jacquariel suddenly wishes they'd thought to include something happier at the end of the mural.

Maybe, they hope, the two of them aren't quite finished with their story yet.

"I know you just got back," they say, turning to Bittiel and gripping his hands in two of theirs, "you probably want some time to adjust to being an angel again. So I don't need or expect a real answer right now. But… do you think there's any chance that eventually you'd still want…"

"You still want to bond with me?" Bittiel asks quietly, finishing the question that Jacquariel was stumbling over. Jacquariel can only nod.

"I don't need time," Bittiel says, voice soft and gentle as he shakes his head fondly. "I don't need to adjust. We've been talking about this for decades, and I'm just as sure as I was the day we got married. Are you sure, though? I'll be spending so much time on earth, we'll go years, maybe even decades, without seeing each other—"

"I just went a decade without seeing you," Jacquariel points out. "All the more reason for me to want to keep a piece of you with me always, even when you're gone. And to send a piece of myself with you."

An angelic bond is nothing like a human marriage. For one thing, it's a permanent physical change—each angel gives up a bit of their grace for the other to absorb. There is no way to reverse it.

"Yes," Bittiel says, and Jacquariel's grace soars. "That's exactly how I feel." He looks around the room briefly. "And I can't imagine a better place for it. Jacquariel... you've spent all this time creating a bonding altar for us, haven't you?"

Jacquariel hadn't thought of it that way, but they realize that Bittiel is right—consciously or not, that's what they've been creating.

In most human cultures, a wedding is a public declaration for many reasons. It's the uniting of two families; often it's a political or financial transaction as much as a romantic one; it's a statement about the parentage of the coming children. An angelic bonding, on the other hand, is considered to be a very private thing, only to be shared between the two angels bonding. There's no ceremony to plan, no reason for them not to do it immediately.

While many human cultures also have particular places for weddings to happen, or rules about where it can or should be, two angels can bond anywhere. It just needs to be a place that is holy to the angels, to the two of them as a couple. The more connected they are to the location of their bonding, the stronger their bond will be. This room, Jacquariel knows, will be as powerful a bonding altar as they could possibly hope for.

"I suppose I have," they admit. "You're right. This is where it has to be. It's perfect."

Bittiel pulls them across the room, coming to stop in front of the image of Bitty and Jack's wedding. That night was the first time they'd talked about bonding, and they'd agreed immediately that it was what they would want as soon as they were both back in Heaven. They'd only brought it up a few times in the rest of their life together, but they never wavered in their commitment. They still don't.

The two of them stand close, hands joined between their chests.

"Jacquariel," Bittiel begins. "My love for you is perfect, and I give it freely, without obligation or expectation. If our permanent joining is not what you desire, I will continue to love you without reservation. Do you wish us to establish an eternal bond?"

"I do," Jacquariel says firmly, mesmerized by Bittiel's beauty. "Bittiel, my love for _you_ is also perfect, and I also give it freely, without obligation or expectation. If our permanent joining is not what you desire, I will continue to love you without reservation. Do you wish us to establish an eternal bond?"

"I do."

They place their hands against each other's chests, moving even closer, until they're almost close enough to kiss.

"As I give my love, I give myself to you freely," Bittiel says, eyes not leaving Jacuariel's face. "I will be with you always."

'As I give my love, I give myself to you freely," Jacquariel repeats. "I will be with you always."

They both close their eyes, and reach out to each other with their grace. Jacquariel can feel their hands sinking into Bittiel's being, and Bittiel's hands sinking into their own, as their graces draw them together and begin to flow between them.

It's like nothing Jacquariel has ever experienced. It's not sexual, but it's an ecstasy beyond anything a human body is capable of. They lose themself in it, figuratively but also literally as their grace continues to flow away from them for the first time in their life, then back in, moving and shifting along with Bittiel's grace. As it continues, they lose all awareness of their own body, their own grace, and Jacquariel ceases to exist; there is only Jacquariel-and-Bittiel, one melded being.

The two of them spend hours there, joined together, unaware of anything other than the euphoric bliss of a connection they can only experience with each other.

Little by little, Jacquariel starts to come back to themself. They realize, at some point, that they have their own body, separate from Bittiel's, which is disappointing. They can feel their grace slowly receding back into themself and out of Bittiel—but it never makes it completely back. As Jacquariel opens their eyes, they can feel the piece of themself that they have permanently given over, to live forever inside of Bittiel, and the piece of Bittiel that they will forever cherish within themself.

Even after the bond is completed, the two of them stand there, clinging, gazing at each other.

"We are one," Jacquariel finally says softly.

"We are one," Bittiel repeats.

They stare for another beat, and then pull each other into a tight embrace. Jacquariel remembers wishing, as a human, that they could be this close, that they could melt into each other. It's everything they'd hoped it would be.

"I love you so much," Bittiel whispers, not loosening his grip. "I'm so lucky I found you."

"Being sent to earth is the best thing that's ever happened to me," Jacquariel says. "Because it's where I found you."

"I have an idea," Bittiel says as he finally pulls back. "We should take a honeymoon."

"A honeymoon?" Jacquariel laughs. Angels don't take honeymoons—but they don't kiss, either.

Bittiel nods. "I have some time before I'm sent back to earth," he explains. "A month or two, probably. Let's take a week or two of that and go to the other side of Heaven, visit Shitty and Lardo and Lily."

"That's a great idea," Jacquariel says, beaming. "And the rest of the time... we have so much to reacquaint ourselves with."

"And acquaint ourselves," Bittiel points out. "There are so many angels I want you to meet, places to see together for the first time..."

"Like our homes," Jacquariel says, realizing. They'd spoken, as humans, about how to combine their homes in Heaven. "Mine is still the smaller. I am happy to leave it." 

"We have time to decide," Bittiel says, but Jacquariel doesn't let him continue.

"I've told you, it isn't particularly important to me. I am not attached to it as you are to yours. And I..." They pause, looking for words. "It still feels right to me, coming to you. Becoming a part of your space, instead of you a part of mine. I have so many fewer attachments in Heaven than you do, it sometimes feels like I have been waiting, all this time, for you to find me and fit me into your life. And with us apart so much, it will be a comfort for my life in Heaven to be touched by you everywhere I look, even while you are on earth."

It's clear that Bittiel is moved by their words. "You are truly all that has been missing from my life. Come home with me, Jacquariel."

Jacquariel follows him out of the Library, and knows they'll continue to follow him everywhere he asks, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting! As I've mentioned, I cut a lot of Chapter 10 out and will be putting it up as a separate one-shot sometime soon, so keep an eye out!


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